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TWO  ROSES 


AN 

ORIGINAL  COMEDY, 

IN  THREE  ACTS. 


BY 

JAMES  ALBERT, 

AUTHOR  OF 

‘^Doctor  Davey;^  CoquHtes,"’  Apple  Blossoms, '' 
Ficicivick,’^  Forgiven,''  ‘‘  Ttveedle's  Rights,"  ^^TVig 
and  G own,"  Spendthrift,"  ‘^Oriana,"  Married," 
^‘Pride,"  The  Man  in  Possession,"  Pinh 
Dominos,"  ‘‘The  Crisis,"  “Spectre  Knight," 

“ W here' s the  Cat,"  “Duty,"  “The 
Golden  Wreath,"  “ King  Kino," 

“Jack  and  Jill,"  dec.,  d’c., 


§ 


London  : 

SAMUEL  FRENCH, 

^ PUBLISHER, 

% 89,  STRAND. 


New  York  : 

SAMUEL  FRENCH  & SON, 

PUBLISHERS, 

38,  EAST  14th  STREET. 


First  'performed  at  the  Vaudeville  Theatre,  Straul,  tinder 
ihe  Mana(jement  of  Messrs.  Montague,  James,  anti  ThoPw^i., 
Jane  4t/t,  1870. 


CHARACTEPvS. 


Digby  Grant,  Esq.  . . JIe.  HENEY  IRVING. 

■Caleb  Deecib  . . . Mk.  THOMAS  THORNE. 

J.LGK  Wyatt  . . . Mr.  H.  J.  MON  TAG  l E. 

OuK  Mr.  Jenkins  . . Me.  GEORGE  HONEY. 

AIk.  Fuenival  . . . AIe.  W.  H.  STEPHENS. 

OCE  AIes.  Jenkins  . . Miss  LAVIS. 

Lotty  ....  AIiss  AAIY  FAWSITf. 

Ida AIiss  NEWTON. 


Arr  I.— AT  DIGBY^  GRANT’S  HOUSE, 

Act  II.— at  WYATT’S  LODGINGS. 


.Act  III. -at  D.  GRANT  DE  CHAPERON’S  VILLA. 


TWO  ROSES. 


ACT  1. 

oCEXE. — Room  in  Grant’s  cottage.  Window  at  hacJzy 
with  rose  trees  shewing  on  each  side ; door  in  flat,  l.; 
fireplace,  r.;  door,  r.i.f.;  piano,  l.  On  the  walls 
framed  needtework.  Brick  floor,  zuith  cocoanut  matting. 
Chess  table  ; sez^nng  machine,  <c^c.  Everything  homely 
hut  tasteful. 

Grant  discovered  with  a letter  and  an  empty  glass  on 
table.  He  is  a tall,  zuell-made  man  about  48  years  old 
Hair,  somewhat  thin  at  top,  brushed  straight  from  back 
into  a bad  curl  on  each  side  ; zuhiskers  bushy,  brushed 
over  the  finger  into  a straight  curl  from  top  to  chin  on 
each  side ; straight  or  slightly  curved  eyebrozifs  sloping 
down  thus  / \ ; large  forehead  running  up  at  sides; 
rosy;  comely  ; zuell  though  somezvhat  shabbily  dressed. 

Grant,  {reading  letter)  “Our  Mr.  Jenkins  will  have 
the  pleasure  of  waiting  on  Mr.  Digby  Grant,  <Scc.,  eS^c., 
when  the  favour  of  his. . .&c.,&c.  Skinner,  Fox  and  Eaton.’’ 
I'm  very  glad  he’s  coming  ; the  samples,  as  he  calls  them, 
that  he  leaves  here  are  very  useful,  {knocking.  Enter 
Mrs.  Cups)  Ah,  Mrs.  Cups,  how  do  you  do  ? 

?sIrs.  C.  {stiffly)  I’m  very  well,  I thank  you. 

Grant.  And  the  “ Hen  and  Toothpick  ” prospers  ? 
Mrs.  C.  Oh,  yes  ! 

Grant,  {blandly)  That’s  well. 

Mrs.  C.  (l.  of  c.  table)  I’ve  called  for  my  little  bill, 
Mr.  Grant. 

Grant,  {taking  bill  file)  I’m  glad  to  hear  it.  I was 
tifraid  you’d  called  for  the  money. 

{takes  bill  off  file  and  hands  it  politay) 


4 


TWO  ROSES. 


Mrs.  C.  Mr.  Grant,  this  is  not  right. 

Grant.  Very  likely  not,  I haven’t  cast  it  up.  I never 
do.  The  tradespeople  mean  to  rob  me,  I mean  to  pay 
them — we  both  fail ; but  the  good  intention  is  with  me,, 
thank  heaven  ! 

Mrs.  C.  Well,  Fve  not  robbed  you ; and  you’ll  find 
this  a debt  you  can’t  help  paying. 

Grant.  Mrs.  Cups,  that’s  new.  I’ve  always  found  ’em 
debts  I can’t  help  owing. 

Mrs.  C.  And  yet  you  pay  away  money  without  occa- 
sion : last  night  you  gave  my  potman  sixpence  to  fetch 
you  a cab,  but  I must  go  without. 

Grant.  Mrs.  Cups,  you  do  not  understand  the  feelings 
of  a gentleman.  cannot  be  under  an  obligation  to  a 
potman — absurd.  Your  case  is  different.  There’s  your 
account ; I acknowledge  the  debt,  I do  not  dispute  it,  or 
attempt  to  deduct  overcharges,  or  take  off  a discount  for 
cash  like  a common  cad.  If  you  bring.it  me  next  year, 
I shall  still  acknowledge  it ; I can  do  no  more.  I am  a 
gentleman ; I can  do  no  less. 

Mrs.  C.  I don’t  care  for  all  your  fine  talk.  I’ll  have 
my  money,  or  I’ll  know  the  reason  why. 

Grant.  What  can  be  fairer?  You  shall  know  the 
reason  why.  I haven’t  got  it. 

Mrs.  C.  Well,  you  must  find  it  somewhere. 

Grant.  There  again,  nothing  can  be  truer ; I must 
find  it  if  I get  it.  The  thing  is,  where  ? 

Mrs.  C.  Don’t  you  know  anyone  you  wouldn’t  mind 
borrowing  it  of  ? 

Grant.  Plenty,  but  they  would  mind  lending. 

Mrs.  C.  Surely  you’ve  some  old  friends. 

Grant.  Yes,  but  they’re  so  old  I’ve  worn  them  out 

Mrs.  C.  Well,  haven’t  you  any  acquaintances  ? 

Grant.  I used  to  have,  but  I’ve  turned  ’em  all  into 
friends. 

Mrs.  C.  Well,  I must  have  my  money,  so  i>  don’t 
signify.  {si7s  l.  0/  the  table) 

Grant.  If  it  don’t  signify,  why  not  wait  ? 

Mrs.  C.  (rises  indignantly)  I haven’t  common  patience. 
Good  morning.  (^<^/>/^) 


TWO  ROSES.  5 

Grant.  Mrs.  Cups,  stay,  (rises)  You  shall  be  paid. 
I’ll  do  it. 

Mrs.  C.  Dear  me,  what  ? (returning 

Grant.  This  little  room  (rises) — lowly  indeed,  for  I 
do  not  hold  the  position  I did — is  still  the  abode  of 
honour  and  innocence,  of  me,  a broken  gentleman,  and 
my  fair  daughters — two  roses,  as  my  very  worthy,  though 
plebeian  friend,  John  Wyatt,  calls  them — two  roses — 
white  and  red.  This  floor  shall  never  be  polluted  by  the 
tread  of  a broken  I will  do  it. 

Mrs.  C.  Dear  me,  do  what  ? 

Grant.  I will  sacrifice  myself. 

Mrs.  C.  Not  kill  yourself,  Mr.  Grant  ? 

Grant.  No,  I will  only  slay  my  pride,  (advances  to 
corner  of  table  doivn  frofit^  R.)  A lady  who  has  wealth  has 
almost  asked  me  to  share  it ; I will  marry  her  for  the  sake 
of  my  daughters — and  you  shall  be  paid. 

Mrs.  C.  I — I could  wait  a little  while,  Mr.  Grant. 

Grant.  No,  you  shall  not  wait.  She  is  not  a fair 
woman  ; she  has  not  your  comely  figure  nor  pleasant 
smile,  Mrs.  Cups. 

Mrs.  C.  Oh,  Mr.  Grant ! 

Grant.  She  has  not  your  gentle  voice. 

]\Irs.  C.  Do  you  think  my  voice  gentle?  {behind 
diair) 

Grant.  She  will  not  be  such  a mother  to  my  girls — as 
— as — you  would  make,  but  I have  pressing  need.  Slie 
will,  I know,  lend  me  twenty  pounds  at  once — and — you 
shall  be  paid,  (sits  in  chair) 

Mrs.  C.  Oh,  it  seems  a great  pity  you  sliould  sacrifice 
yourself,  Mr.  Grant.  It’s  very  noble,  but 

Grant.  1 will  do  my  duty. 

Mrs.  C.  I — I — could  lend  you  twenty  pounds,  Mr. 
Grant,  if 

Grant,  (takes  her  hand)  Mrs.  Cups,  these  lips  have 
touched  the  royal  hand  (kisses  her  hand).  I — I — cannot 
express  what  I feel  at  this  proof  of  your — high  esteem — I 
would  not  have  you  see  my  emotion  Leave  me — and — 
and — bring  the  money. 

Mrs.  C.  I will,  Mr.  Grant ; good-bye. 

Grant.  Good-bye ; I shall  never  be  able  to  repay  you 


6 


TWO  ROSES. 


for  your  kindness.  Allow  me.  {opens  door  mid  hows  her 
cut;  closes  door)  That’s  a damn’d  silly  woman. 

{goes  to  get  spirits  and  is  going  to  niix,  %vhen  he  hears 
Mrs.  Cups  and  the  Girls;  he  puis  it  aivay  again) 

Mrs.  C.  {outside)  Ah,  my  dears  ! 

Girls.  Ah,  Mrs.  Cups.  We’re  in  a hurry,  we’ve  got  a 
dispute.  Now  we’ll  count. 

{they  ai'e  heard  countings  1,2,  3,  4,  <S:c.,  Ida  getting 
ahead) 

Grant.  What  on  earth  are  they  counting  ? Not  money  t 
Ida.  {outside)  37,  38,  39,  40.  {her  head  gradually 
appears  at  L.  of  window^  and  her  finger  passes  along  the 
rose  branch  as  she  counts  the  roses)  42,  43,  44 — 45 — 46  ! 

LoTTY.  41,  42,  43,  44.  {she  appears  in  like  manner  at 
same  business)  45,  46,  47,  48 — 49 — 50  ! {ti'iumphantly) 
Ida.  {disappointed)  But  I like  the  perfume  of  mine 
better,  Lotty. 

Lotty.  I don’t  know,  I think  mine’s  as  good,  /like 
it — let  me  smell  yours. 

They  smell  first  one,  then  the  other,  till  at  last  they  run 
their  faces  together,  when  they  both  laugh,  throw  their 
arms  roumd  each  other's  necks  and  kiss,  then  leave  the 
window. 

Grant.  Two  roses,  indeed.  Dear  girls — one  scarcely 
feels  the  burden  of  having  to  support  such  dear  children.. 

(Grant  sits  in  chair,  r.) 

The  Girh  come  in,  the  bright  light  falling  on  them 
as  they  pause  at  the  door.  They  are  both  dressed  in 
light  summer  costume,  almost  exactly  alike,  nothing  costly, 
but  everythin gmadewith  great  taste  and  daintily  trimmed. 
Ida  is  the  taller  and  a little  darker  ; Lotty  l ery  fair,, 
and  looks  a little  sad,  but  both  flushed  with  health,  Ida 
crosses  to,  and  kisses  Grant. 

• 

Grant.  Well,  dears,  where  have  you  been  ? 

Ida.  {taking  off  hat)  At  the  Rectory,  papa,  playing  at 
croquet  with  four  such  pretty  girls. 


TWO  ROSES. 


7 


Grant.  All  as  pretty  as  you  ? 

Ida.  {crossing  to  pia7io)  I despise  flattery j they  weren’t. 

{they  take  off  their  hats) 

Grant.  Well,  your  vanity  is  consummate. 

Ida.  Of  course  it  is,  Pve  the  best  of  everything. 

Grant  {taking  Lotty  by  the  hand)  And  have  you  been 
at  croquet  ? 

Lotty.  No,  papa,  I’ve (r.  of  Grant,  Ida,  l.,  at 

S7?iall  table) 

Grant.  Why,  you’ve  been  crying  again. 

Lotty.  Yes,  papa. 

Grant.  Why,  what’s  the  matter  ? 

Lotty.  Nothing,  papa. 

Grant.  And  so  you  cried? 

Lotty.  Yes,  papa. 

Grant.  Why,  Lotty,  where’s  your  ring  ? 

Lotty.  {with  a gulp)  Jack’s  got  it. 

Grant.  Surely  you’ve  not  quarrelled  with  him. 

Lotty.  Yes,  I have,  papa,  and  I never  want  to  see 
biim  again. 

Ida.  I don’t  wish  to  see  him  again,  neither,  papa. 
Grant.  Wliy,  what’s  he  done  ? 

Ida.  . He’s  insulted  us. 

Grant.  {i7idigna7it)  Insulted  you  ! 

I]x\r  Yes,  papa,  he  sent  us  two  fichus. 

Grant.  Fish-hooks  ? The  rascal  ! Hinting  that  you 
angled  for,  and  caught  him,  eh  ? 

Ida.  No,  papa,  fichus  to  wear.  All  black  lace. 

Grant.  Oh  ! well. 

Ida.  Well,  papa,  it  was  a direct  notice  of  our  poverty, 
so  we  wrote  him  Avord  that  if  Ave  Avere  not  dressed  avcII 
enough  to  be  seen  Avith  him,  AA^e  could  do  Avithout  his 
company,  and  said  he  Avas  to  apologise. 

Grant.  Very  proper.  This  plebeian  presumption  must 
be  put  doAvn. 

Ida.  And  Ave  sent  them  back. 

Grant.  Very  Avrong.  The  letter  Avas  right,  but  you 
should  have  kept — the — the — fish. 

Ida.  Fichus. 

Lotty.  {f7‘etti}ig)  They  AA^ere  sucli  beauties. 


TWO  ROSES. 


Grant.  Did  he  apologise  ? 

Lotty.  {sobbing  and  takmg  out  letter)  No,  he  laughed 
at  us.  He  says  we  are  two  pretty  little  pasty 

Grant.  Pasty? 

Lotty  {sobbing)  No — hasty  creatures,  and — and — we 
deserve  to  be  put  into  tight  gloves. 

Grant,  {smiling  He  said  that,  eh  ? 

Ida.  (l.)  I wont  be  called  a hasty  creature,  (l.,  at 
machme) 

Lotty.  N — no — more  will  I. 

Ida.  So  Lotty  wrote  for  her  letters  back. 

Grant,  {anxious)  Well? 

Lotty.  And  he  sent  ’em  ! A deal  he  cared  for  m::. 

Grant.  Didn’t  you  mean  it  ? 

Ida.  {sharply  advancmg  to  Grant,  r.c.)  Of  course 
she  meant  it,  papa  ; but  she  didn’t  expect  he’d  send  ’em. 
{goes  up  to  windoio^  looks  off^  L.c.) 

Lotty.  And  now  we  neither  of  us  mean  ever  to  see 
him  again. 

Grant.  My  dear  children,  this  must  not  be.  I have 
but  a wretched  forty  pounds  per  quarter  from  your  poor 
mother’s  stingy  brother  ; you  must  not  expect  me  always 
to  support  you.  Wyatt  is  a man  sure  to  get  on.  You 
would  not  only  be  off  my  hands,  but  might  provide  a 
home  for  your  sister,  {hands  Lotty  a portfolio)  Here,  my 
dear,  write  and  say  you  are  sorry,  {opens  portfolio^  puis 
pen  in  Lotty ’s  hand). 

Loti'y.  Shall  I,  Ida  ? {going  to  armchair  r.  of  table) 

Ida.  I shouldn’t ; he  ought  to  beg  our  pardon. 

{'^.  of  Lottv) 

Grant.  Ida.  how  dare  you?  how  dare  you?  Lotty, 
my  love,  do  as  I bid  you ; do  not  spoil  your  prospects. 
{examines  pen.^  then  puts  it  again  in  her  hand)  Begin  : 
‘‘My  dear  Sir” (Ida  stares  at  him) 

Lotty.  La,  papa  ! I say,  “ My  own  dearest  Jack.” 

Grant.  Very  well. 

Ida.  I should  only  say  dear'‘^  this  time,  Lotty. 
{behind  Lotty) 

Lotty.  {writes)  “ My  dear  Jack.” 

Grant.  “ I am  very  sorry  I was  so  hasty,”  and  under- 
line ‘‘  sorry  I was  hasty.  ’ 


TWO  ROSES. 


9 


Ida.  “But  you  deeply  wounded  my  pride,”  and 
underline  “ wounded  my  pride.” 

Orant.  {loftily)  “And  my  feelings,  connected  as  I am 
with  a noble  family  ” 

Ida.  That  won’t  do, papa;  “and  you  know  I love  you 
very  dearly.” 

Lotty.  Yes,  I’ll  write  that;  and  I’ll  underline  “love 
you  very  dearly.”  O dear,  it’s  all  underlined.  Oh,  I’ll 
put  two  lines  under  “love  you  very  dearly.” 

Ida.  “ So  do  come  and  see  me  soon.”  Underline 
“ soon.”  (Ida  goes  up  to  wi/idoia,  looks  of  l.) 

Lotty.  Soon,  “ Your  affectionate  Lotty.”  Oh,  I’m 
so  glad  it’s  done,  {folds  letter  and  puts  it  in  envelope) 

Ida.  {looking  fro7n  7vindo7Cf)  Don’t  fasten  it,  Lotty  ; 
here’s  Caleb  coming,  he  may  have  a message  from  Jack. 
Let  us  sit  quite  quiet,  and  see  if  he’ll  find  us.  {they  sit 
4juiet) 

Enter  Caleb  {blind),  a young  man  of  about  22, 
cheer  fill,  pleasant,  neatly  dressed.  There  is  no 
hesitation  in  his  manner,  no  sign  of  fear ; he  seems 
10  know  7vhere  each  piece  of  furniture  is,  and  merely 
taps  it  7Cfith  his  cane  at  the  side  as  he  passes  it ; 
he  docs  not  hold  out  his  hand  or  seem  in  any  7uay 
cautious.  At  centre  of  room  he  listens. 

Caleb.  How  do  you  do  ? {listens)  No  one  here  ? I 
believe  there  is  some  one  here  ? (Ida  scratches  on  chair 
7aith  finy^er)  Poor  little  puss.  I think  you  are  a big  puss, 
though  a pretty  puss,  and  if  I were  a mouse  you’d  be 
frightened,  {listens)  Can’t  I hear  Mr.  Grant’s  pleasant 
breathing  ? (Grant  smiles)  or  is  it  a pig  in  the  road  ? No 
one,  eh?  Well,  I like  a quiet  audience,  so  I’ll — {goes  to 
piano  and  plays ; as  he  gets  to  a soft  part  in  music  Ida 
creeps  behind  him ; he  stops,  listening,  7uith  his  hands 
raised) 

Ida.  {in  a gruff  voice)  What  do  you  want? 

Caleb,  {twisting  round  on  stool)  As  bad  as  that,  Ida  ? 
You  won’t  bite  as  well  as  scratch  ? 

Ida.  Why  didn’t  you  knock? 

Caleb.  Because  you  saw  me  coming. 


10 


TWO  ROSES. 


Ida.  {surprised)  O dear  me,  I am  getting  frightened’ 
of  you;  how  did  you  know  I saw  you?  Now,  tell  me,. 
I’m  very  curious. 

Caleb.  That’s  a great  fault,  and  I’ll  punish  it. 

Ida.  Then,  I’m  all  patience. 

Caleb.  That’s  a great  virtue,  and  I’ll  test  it.  Come 
nearer  ; it’s  very  wonderful. 

Ida.  {puzzled)  Well  ? (Lotty  goes  to  ivindoiv) 

Caleb,  {mysteriously)  I heard  you  say  so. 

Ida.  O,  you  couldn’t  hear  all  that  way  off,  and  I didn’t 
speak  loud. 

Caleb.  But  your  head  was  out  of  window,  and  the 
wind  blowing  right  in  my  face. 

{N.B. — See  the  business  las  been  attended  to) 

Ida.  O how  thoughtless  I am  ! 

Caleb.  That’s  what  I said  to  Jack. 

Ida.  ( //  \ Then  you’d  no  business  to  say 

Lotty.  J so  to  Jack. 

Ida  If  you  must  talk 

Caleb.  We’re  not  women,  and  it’s  optional. 

Ida.  You’ll  please  to  talk  of  someone  else. 

Caleb.  O,  I did — of  Lotty. 

Lotty.  Well? 

Caleb.  I said  you  were  thoughtless  too. 

Lotty  \jogetJier^^  Then  you’d  no  business  to  say  so. 

Ida.  We  won’t  be  called  thouglitless. 

Caleb.  Only  be  so. 

Ida.  {ivitk  a dog^yed  smile)  Yes.  I shall  write  to  Mr. 
Wyatt. 

Caleb.  Through  Lotty,  as  you  did  before. 

Ida.  As  I did  before?  I didn't  write  to  him. 

Caleb.  No,  Lotty  wrote,  and  you  dictated. 

Grant,  {looking  up  from  coucJi)  Caleb,  you  forget.  I 
might  have  dictated. 

Caleb.  Yes,  you  might,  out  you  didn’t.  It  wasn’t 
you,  because  there  was  nothing  of  your  noble  relations, 
and  it  was  Ida,  because  there  was  so  much  about  pride. 

Ida,  Caleb,  you  can  go  if  you  like,  {crosses  to  r.c.) 

C.\t.eb.  Very  well ; shall  I take  the  letter  to  Jack  ? 
{takes  hat.  All  start  and  look  at  each  othei') 


TWO  ROSES. 


ir 


Ida.  I really  am  getting  frightened  of  him. 

Lotty.  Why,  Caleb,  how  did  you  know  Fd  written. 

Caled.  {quietly  brushing  his  hat  on  his  sleeve)  I didn’t 
know,  I only  guessed  it. 

Ida.  You  must  have  known  something. 

Caleb.  Yes,  I knew  you  were  women — now  I’ll  be 
more  open,  {puts  down  hat)  I’ve  something  for  you.  {puts 
his  ha7id  in  breast  pocket)  What  will  you  give  me  for  it  ? 

Lotty.  (r.c.)  A rose  off  my  tree,  (ru/^s  up  to  window\ 

Ida.  (l.c.)  And  I’ll  give  you  one  off  mine,  {runs  up  to- 
7vi?ido7u) 

Grant.  Ah,  you’re  never  out  of  favour  long,  Caleb. 

{Jhe  two  Girls  come  doivn) 

Ida.  Now,  which  will  you  have  ? 

Caleb.  Lotty's  ! (Ida  looks  disap  point  ui)  to  give  to- 
Jack.  (Ida  looks  pleased) 

Lotty.  There  then. 

{as  she  lifts  her  rose,  Ida  pushes  it  away  and  puts  hers)' 

Caleb,  {sinells  if)  No,  that’s  Ida’s. 

Ida.  Well  here,  {puts  tip  Lotty’s  left  hand  7vith  rose)' 

Caleb.  Ah,  thafs  Lotty’s,  but  this  is  not  Lotty’s  hand. 

(Caleb  feels  her  hand  for  ring) 

Lotty.  Yes,  it  is. 

Caleb.  No.  Where’s  Jack’s  ring.(I>OTTY  tumis  aiuay  and' 
cries)  I did  not  know  it  was  so  bad  as  that ; here’s  the  letter. 
(Lotty  goes  up  to  table  joyously^  and  reads  letter) 

Ida.  Now  you  be  off,  go  into  the  garden  and  feed  the 
rabbits.  (Grant  goos  up  to  7vindo7C>) 

Caleb,  Have  they  grown  ? 

Ida.  Yes,  Caleb’s  the  biggest. 

Caleb.  Does  Caleb  frighten  you  ? 

Ida.  Don’t  be  foolish. 

ukoa'  j'v  Caleb,  {seated  in  arm-chair^  r.  of  table) 

Caleb.  Yes. 

Lotty.  (pwi ping  her  eyes)  Don’t  forget  Jack;  I’ve  put 
him  by  himself  in  the  top  hutch,  and  Ida  and  Lotty  and 
Caleb  are  together  below. 

Caleb.  No,  we  won’t  forget  Jack — {g^ing,  holds  out  his 
hand) — for  myself,  Ida  1 


12 


TWO  ROSES. 


Ida.  AVhat  do  you  mean?  Oh,  the  rose!  (givc2  it  to 
tiini)  Now,  don't  come  back  till  you’re  called. 

Caleb.  Ah,  that’s  mine.  {Exit  side  door, k.  i e.) 

Grant.  Now,  dear,  what  does  Wyatt  say  ? Stop — you 
don’t  think  Caleb’s  listening.  ^ 

Ida.  Listen  1 Caleb  can’t  do  anything  mean. 

Grant.  Mean — well,  I — I — {to  Lotty)  AVhat  does 
Wyatt  say,  dear  ? {behind  the  chair') 

Lotty.  Say?  He’s  a darling,  he’s  good  as  he’s 
liandsome. 

Grant.  Bless  me,  does  he  really]^have  the  assurance  to 
say  that  ? 

Lotty.  No,  I say  that.  He  says  he  was  very  wrong  ; 
it  was  all  his  fault,  and  begs  to  be  forgiven.  I’ll  write  a 
fresh  note  and  say  it  was  all  my  fault,  and  ask  him  to 
forgive  me.  {in  great  glee,  opens  portfolio  again,  and  pre- 
pares to  icfrite,) 

Ida.  No,  Lotty,  you  mustn’t,  {rises,  goes  to  R-  of 
Lotty). 

Grant.  Certainly  not.  {advances,  r.) 

Ida.  Write,  Dear  Mr.  AVyatt.” 

Lotty.  Not  dear  Mr.  Wyatt  ?” 

Ida.  No  ! “ I do  not  cherish  resentment 
Grant,  {correcting)  “I  have  been  taught  not  to  cherish 
resentment.”  {lualks  to  and  fro,  r.) 

Ida.  “And  I will  try  and  forget  your  cruelty.” 

Lotty.  Cruelty  ! bless  his  dear  heart  ! 

Ida.  “Corneas  soon  as  you  please,  you  are  forgiven.” 
Lotty.  “ Forgiven  !”  “ Your  ever  true  and  devoted.” 
Ida.  No,  no,  Lotty  dear,  “Yours — yours  sincerely.” 
Lotty.  {disappointed)  “Sincerely,  Lotty.” 

Ida.  No,  “ Charlotte  Digby  Grant.” 

Lotty.  Charlotte  Digby  Grant.  O dear  ! 

{she  puts  it  into  an  envelope.  Knock  at  door) 
Grant.  Come  in. 

Enter  Mr.  Jenkins,  d.  f.,  a pic  as  ant-looking  man  ivith 
brown  hair  and  sandy  whiskers,  and  just  that  amount  of 
ease  that  comes  from  being  a great  deal  about ; not  really 
vulgar.  He  carries  a large  leather  case. 

Girls.  Ah!  it’s  Our  Mr.  Jenkins  ! 


TWO  ROSES.  1 5 

Grant.  Ah,  my  humble  friend.  How  is  Our  Mr.. 
Jenkins? 

Jenk.  Oh,  Our  Mr.  Jenkins  is  cheerful,  thank’ee. 
Glad  to  see  you,  my  dears,  {puts  doivn  case)  Did  young 
Twigs  advise  me  ? 

Grant.  O yes,  here’s  your  circular 

Jenk.  Ah,  young  Twigs  knows  I always  come  here, 
and  he  thinks  it  a good  joke  to  advise  me.  {takes  out  a 
bottle  of  wine)  Here’s  a bottle  of  something  good  I’ve  had 
given  me  ; you  shall  have  it. 

Grant.  No,  no.  (Grant  smiles) 

Jenk.  O yes,  you  shall. 

Grant.  Glasses,  dear. 

(Ida  brings  them  from  cheffo)iicr^  r.) 

Lotty.  You  always  have  a bottle  of  wine  given  you. 

Jenk.  Yes,  people  are  fond  of  me. 

Ida.  {aside  to  Lotty)  I believe  he  buys  ’em. 

Jenk.  Nice  change  in  the  weather.  Nature  seem’d 
lately  to  ha\e  taken  a pretty  good  line  for  showers,  and  I 
hope  she’s  executed  the  order,  and  ’ll  book  a little  fine 
weather  forward. 

Grant.  Find  trade  better  ? 

Jenk.  Always  do  well  here.  Put  seven  feather  beds, 
into  little  Tom  Doyle  for  nineteen  pounds.  That  was  a 
job 

Ida.  So  I should  think. 

Jenk.  Yes,  they  were  cheap.  I don’t  do  much  in  beds ; 
hosiery’s  my  line.  I did  a good  stroke  at  Deacon’s — cut 
Stone  out.  Stone  covers  a deal  of  ground  ; wherever  you 
go  there’s  Stone  before  you — Stone’s  on  for  Taylor  and 
Bunks — mean  people  Taylor  and  Bunks.  Stone’s  a railer. 

Ida.  At  their  meanness  ? 

Jenk.  No,  rails.  Don’t  drive — has  to  pay  for  his  bed. 

Grant.  Don’t  you  ? 

Jenk.  No.  Don’t  charge  for  your  bed  when  you  drive, 
only  charge  for  your  ho^se — man’s  nothing. 

Ida.  Flattering. 

Jenk.  Yes.  Took  a good  line  at  Baker’s  Mills,  down; 
in  the  old  Man’s  Lees  ; all  hands  goi  ng  there,  {knotvingly 
rubbing  his  ears  with  knuckles)  Fine  weather,  I suppose. 


H 


TWO  ROSES. 


moves  everything ; I see  your  roses  are  in  full  work 
again. 

Lottv.  (imitates  him)  Yes,  yes  ; they’re  working  over- 
time. Two  thousand  petals  employed,  (hands  her  letter 
to  Ida,  who  goes  to  door  and  calls  Caleb).  This  is  tho 
house  of  York  and  Lancaster. 

Jenk.  Got  two  landlords  ? 

Re-enter  Calei3  ; Ida  gives  him  letter. 

Lottv.  Did  you  never  hear  of  the  “Wars  of  the 
Roses  ”? 

Jenk.  No:  I’ve  heard  of  the  “Loves  of  the  plants.’^ 
How  could  roses  fight  ? — miglit  do  in  a picture. 
Caleb.(r.)  Then  it  wou  Id  be  a drawn  battle. 
l.OTTV.  Sound  the  alarm,  Ida.  (Ida  rings  little  hell) 
Jenk.  Come  in.  (they  laugh)  Oh  ! I see.  (crossing  to 
ia  'bh\  L.)  Wliat’s  the  matter  ? 

Lottv.  Caleb  made  a pun. 

Jenk.  Where?  (they  laugh)  Oh,  you  confuse  me  so. 
How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Deecie? 

Caleb,  (r.)  Well,  thank’ee.  Is  your  case  very  lieavy 
this  time  ? 

Jenk.  Well,  there  are  some  samples  I should  be  glad 
if  Mr.  Grant  would  let  me  leave. 

Grant  is  carejully  dusting  cork  with  brush  of  corkscrew  ; 
dra  ws  cork  as  he  speaks. 

Grant.  My  house  is  always  at  tlie  disposal  of  Our 
i\Ir.  Jenkins.  (cork pops) 

Caleb.  I shan’t  be  long,  Lotty.  (crosses  in  front  up  to 
.door,  D.F.,  going  out,  tapping  at  side  7aith  cane) 

Jenk.  Why  don’t  you  have  a little  dog,  as  they  do  in 

Ida.  Mr.  Jenkins  ! 

(I'ises  indignantly,  and  goes  up  to  Caleb) 
Caleb.  Never  mind,  Ida,  if  I can’t  see  the  joke  I can 
feel  it. 

Jenk.  Upon  my  word,  I beg  your  pardon,  I do  indeed. 
I wouldn’t  hurt  the  feelings  of  a ferret. 

Caleb.  I know  you  wouldn’t  \ I’ve  been  told  you’re  a 
good  fellow. 


TWO  ROSES. 


15 


Jenk.  Who  told  you  ? 

C^ALEU.  {aside  io  him)  The  sample  case. 

{Exit^  D.  in  f.l) 

Lotty.  (at  iumdG7ii)  I believe  I can  see  Jack  waiting 
.at  the  trees  yonder.  (Ida  joins  her) 

Jenk.  {opening  case)  I 7cnll  take  the  liberty  of  leaving 
tliese,  Mr.  Grant.  That’s  a good  sample  of  flannel. 

Grant.  I dare  say.  {sipping  ■loine)  Take  a glass  of 
wine. 

Jenk.  (taking  out  things)  Thank  you.  Do  you  see 
.any  change  in  me  ? 

Grant.  No.  Why? 

Jenk.  Don’t  look  anxious  ? (admiring  fiannel) 
Thoroughly  shrunk. 

CiRANT.  No.  Are  you  in  difficulty — debt  ? Nothing — 
offer  something  in  the  pound  ; you  won’t  feel  it.  I once 
offered  something  in  the  pound — ’twas  nothing. 

Jenk.  No.  I’m  going  to  be  married,  {takes  ont  some 
stockings;  the  Girls  twii  suddenly  roiind ; he  puts  them 
.behind  him  in  ccnfiisioni) 

Lotty.  Ah  ! we  must  see  Our  Mrs.  Jenkins 

Jenk.  You  shall.  {they  timiaiuay  again) 

Grant.  Young?  {sipping  7oine) 

Jenk.  I haven’t  asked  her.  I never  encourage  false- 
hood. {k2/ts  ont  large  roll  of  calico) 

Grant.  Plump? 

Jenk.  She  was ; {imth  the  stockings  again)  but  she’s 
past  that— a love  heap — well  made  in  the  leg — very 
durable. 

Grant.  Maiden  lady? 

Jenk.  Widow, 

Grant,  (r.)  I congratulate  you. 

Jenk.  (puts  the  things  in  a little  pile)  You’ll  kindly  let 
me  leave  these,  as  they  make  my  case  so  heavy. 

Grant.  Certainly. 

Jenk.  You  can  give  them  away. 

Grant.  Just  so.  A glass  of  wine? 

Jenk.  Thank  you.  Will  you  come  to  the  wedding? 
N ice  party. 

Ida.  Oh,  do  go,  papa,  (goes  ro^md  io  R.  of  Grant) 


i6 


TWO  ROSES. 


Jfnk.  We  shall  have  Tcm  Stewcarter,  from  the  firm 
of  Saddler,  Mayer,  and  Rider,  and  Dick  Tubbs,  a com- 
mission man,  who  travels  in  boots. 

Ida.  What  w^ould  you  have  him  travel  in  ? 

Jenk.  Well,  I wanted  him  to  come  to  our  place  and 
travel  in  socks  and  drawers  and  a few  pieces  of  flannel. 

Lotty.  How  odd  he’d  look  ! 

Jfnk.  And  there’ll  be  old  Twirl,  \vho  travels  in 
feathers. 

Grant,  {nodding  And  tar. 

Jenk.  Tar — and  feathers?  No!  I don’t  know  any- 
body on  the  road  who  travels  in  tar  and  feathers. 

{siis  L.  of  table) 

Lotty.  Oh,  there’s  Jack ; let’s  go  to  the  gate. 

Grant,  (starting)  My  dear  child,  do  restrain  yourself. 

Ida.  Lotty,  come  here ; don’t  let  him  think  we  are 
expecting  him.  Sit  down  to  your  work.  (Lotty  goes  to 
saving  machine,  Ida  sits  at  piano  and  plays) 

Jenk.  Why,  what’s  the  matter  ? 

Grant.  Nothing.  A glass  of  wine?  (Ida plays  piano) 

Enter  Wyatt,  followed  by  Caleb,  with  a parcel, 
Wyatt  carries  a magazine  and  a fishing  basket. 
They  stay  at  the  door. 

Wyatt,  (after  a pause)  Good  day.  (glancing  at  Lotty. 
Ida  boivs  stiffly^  takes  music  stool,  and  sits  the  other  side 
cf  machine,  Lotty  tries  to  peep  without  being  noticed) 

Jenk.  Good  day,  how  d’ye  do? 

Wyatt.  Ah,  Our  Mr.  Jenkins.  Egad,  no  one  need 
ask  how  you  are  ; you  look  as  cheerful  as  a love-apple. 
1 can  tell  you  a good  place  to  take  a line. 

Jenk.  (taking  out  book)  Where? 

Wyatt.  The  mill-stream.  Look  here,  (puts  basket  on 
table.  Aside)  Won’t  she  speak? 

Grant,  (smacking  his  lips)  Trout — Beauties! 

Grant  Jenkins  take  basket  of  fish  to  windoiv, 
look  into  it  approvingly,  Jenkins  produces  his 
cigar  case,  offers  to  Grant  ; they  smoke  and  chat 
apart, 

Lotty.  (l.)  May  I lock  up  now^,  Ida  ? 


TWO  ROSES. 


17 


Ida.  (l.)  Let  him  come  here. 

Caleb  passes  and  gees  to  ehess-bcard,  and  sets  out 
ine7i^  aiways  ecLng  the  bottc7ns  to  fnd  the  colour^ 

Ida.  Don't  you  see  us,  Mr.  Wyatt  ? 

Wyatt.  {joi7U7igtJu7n)  Yes,  I was  waiting  to  hear  you 
-am  I forgiven  ? 

Ida.  It’s  very  hard  to  forgive  you. 

Wyatt.  As  hard  as  to  swim  where  there  is  no  w^ater. 
(Lotty  laughs.  Ida  iries  to  look  vexed)  Am  I forgiven  ? 
{kneels  L.  beiwee7i  the  two  girls) 

Ida.  Yes,  Jack,  but  you  must  never  do  it  again,  {futs 
her  hand  C7i  his  ami) 

Lotty.  No,  you  dear  darling  old  Jack,  you  must 
never  do  it  again,  (taking  his  arm  with  both  hands  ; the 
girls  look  up  in  his  face)  N ow,  proruise. 

Wyatt.  I have  done  nothing,  and  I promise  never  to 
repeat  it. 

Lotty.  O Jack,  you  said  the  fault  was  yours. 

Wyatt.  Yes,  pet,  you  are  mine. 

Lotty.  But  you  wrote  you  wxre  wrong. 

Wyai  T.  I w^as  wrong  when  I wrote. 

Ida.  Then  wasn't  your  letter  true  ? 

Wyatt.  True  as  yours,  true  as  the  camera — that 
reverses  everything. 

Lotiy.  He's  laughing  at  us,  Ida — he  ahvays  laughs  at 
us. 

WYatt.  Laugh  at  you!  Yes,  ^^ith  joy.  As  Our  Mr. 
Jenkins  would  put  it,  you  look  as  if  you  travelled  for  Flora, 
and  fed  on  your  samples,  (reads  Jroni  inagazine) 

One's  like  the  rose,  when  June  and  July  kiss 
One  like  the  leaf-housed  bud  young  May  discloses, 

Sweetly  7/7/like,  and  yet  alike  in  this. 

They  both  are  roses.’' 

Lotty.  Is  that  your  own  ? 

Wyatt.  No,  Caleb's  ! (opens  inagazine) 

Ida.  Oh,  isn't  Caleb  dreadfully  clever? 

Wyatt  puts  inagazine  on  edge  of  table — the  girls  tack 
timst  their  heads  to  look  over. 


i8 


TWO  ROSES. 


Grant,  {looking  at fish)  Ida,  Our  Mr.  Jenkins  must  sup 
'with  us.  These,  with  a little  dry  sherry — 

Jenk.  Tin  expecting  a fellow  to  give  me  a bottle  of 
•dry  sherry.  You  shall  have  it. 

Grant.  No,  no. 

Jenk.  Yes,  you  shall. 

Caleb.  Going  to  play,  Ida  ? 

Ida.  {rises  and  crossing  to  Caleb)  Yes  ! {7'eading  niaga- 
.zine  as  she  goes)  Oh  ! isn’t  this  good,  {sits  opposite  Caleb 
at  the  chess-table  near  window) 

Jenk.  {up  r.  at  wmdow.  To  Grant)  Do  you  mean 
to  say  he  plays  chess  ? 

Grant,  {up  r.  at  7aindoza)  Yes,  and  plays  well  too. 

Jenk.  {m  wonder)  Well,  1 can’t. 

(Caleb  azid  Ida  arranging  men) 

Wyatt,  {sitting  on  stool  vacated  by  Ida,  l.)  Going  to 
work,  Lotty  ? 

LoTTY.  {drumming  on  table  ivith  her  left  hand  to  draw 
Wyatt’s  attentiozi  to  the  absence  of  her  ring)  No. 

(Caleb  holds  two  pieces  to  Ida  to  choose ; she  does  sOy 
and  chooses  a black  piece) 

Caleb,  {feeling  the  piece)  White  ! I play  first.  Pawn 
to  King’s  4th. 

Jenk.  How  does  he  know  ? 

Grant.  Scratched  them  at  the  bottom. 

(Ida  moves  for  hiniy  and  then  makes  her  own  move) 

Ida.  Pawn  to  King’s  4th. 

(Lotty  has  been  looking  from  her  hand  to  Wyatt) 

Wyatt.  Isn’t  .your  hand  well  ? 

Lotty.  No. 

W YATT.  {taking  it)  Poor  hand  ! {puts  the  rmg  on  her 
finger)  Better  now  ? 

(Lotty.  {kisses  the  ring,  then  looks  up  laughmgly  into 
his  face)  Yes ! 

Caleb.  King’s  Knight  to  Bishop’s  3rd. 

{Ida  znakes  the  move  for  him^  then^  after  a pausCy  her  own) 

Ida.  Pawn  to  King’s  Bishop’s  3rd. 

Jenk.  Dear  me,  it’s  very  wonderful. 


TWO  ROSES. 


19 


Wyatt.  Going  to  work  now,  Lotty  ? 

Lotty.  No,  you  try.  (turns  the  sewing  7nachine  towards 
him)  Here — here  are  some  pieces ; sew  two  together. 

Wyatt.  Well,  there’s  my  emblem;  there’s  yours,  (takes 
from  workbox  on  the  table  a piece  of  silk  and  a bit  of  linen) 

Caleb.  Knight  takes  Pawn.  (Ida  makes  the  move  for 
him  ; then^  after  a pause) 

Wyatt.  You’re  of  the  lace  and  trimming  of  the  world. 
I of  its  weft  and  warp ; now  we’ll  be  sewn  together. 

Lotty.  With  a lock-stitch.  Wire  in ! (Wyatt  looks 
zip  half  shocked^  half  smiling)  Learned  that  of  the  boys 
outside.  I must  do  or  say  something  wicked,  (throwing 
herself  back  in  her  chair)  I am  so  happy. 

Wyatt.  Ah ! perhaps  that  was  Eve’s  case  when  she 
gathered  the  first  apple. 

Caleb.  Knight  to  Knight’s  5th — 

Ida.  (making  her  move)  Pawn  takes  Knight. 

Caleb.  If  you  do  that  you’ll  lose  the  game. 

Ida.  Pawn  to  Queen’s  Bishop’s  4th. 

Jenkins  has  given  Grant  a cigar ; they  are  now 
smokmg,  and  as  Wyatt  turns  the  machine^  Jenkins 
saunters  doivn  to  them^  looking  admiringly  at  the 
sewing  machine  as  Wyatt  stitches  the  pieces  together^ 
Lotty  laughing  at  his  awkward  way  of  doing  it, 

Jenk.  (l.c.)  Pretty  thing  a sewing  machine, 

Wyatt,  (turning  sharp  rounds  in  a half  heroic  way)  I 
protest  to  thee,  Our  Mr.  Jenkins,  that  this  is  an  epitome 
of  this  world’s  history.  Little  Eve  thought,  when  she 
threaded  her  first  needle,  of  the  wonderful  effects  that 
would  follow.  Herald  of  rags  and  tatters,  pomp  and 
splendour,  of  weaving  worms  and  writhing  slavery ; a 
new  world  in  arms  and  the  old  in  panic,  (turns  handle) 
In  a thousand  workrooms  this  little  machine  is  singing  a 
histo^*y  that  goes  far  deeper  than  is  recorded  by  Clarendon 
and  Macaulay. 

Jenk.  Clarendon  and — . What  is  their  line  ? 

AVyatt.  Refiners. 

Jenk.  Who  travels  for  them  ? 

Wyatt.  Old  Lather  Time. 


20 


TWO  ROSES. 


Jenk.  {joins  Grant)  Is  he  chaffing  me? 

Lotty.  Now  you’ve  done  lecturing,  let’s  see  if  we  are 
securely  joined,  (takes  pieces  a?id  pal  is  them  asu?ider) 

Wyatt.  Oh  dear  ! is  that  an  omen  ? 

Lotty.  No,  Jack,  nothing  shall  ever  part  us  again. 
It  was  all  my  fault.  Jack ; I did  so  want  to  say  it. 
Nothing  shall  ever  part  us  again. 

Wyatt.  Nothing? 

Lotty.  Nothing ! (taking  7iecdle-work  out  of  basket)- 
Don’t  speak  to  me  for  a minute.  Jack,  or  else  I shall 
want  to  cry.  (be7ids  down  over  wo7’k) 

Jenk.  I say,  Mr.  Grant,  do  manage  to  come  up  to  my 
wedding,  (advances  to  c.  ivith  Grant) 

Grant.  I would  do  anything  to  serve  Our  Mr.  Jenkins, 
but  a noble  spirit  never  fears  the  truth.  My  income  is- 
limited — very,  and  what  I have  I spend  on  my  daugh- 
ters. I have  no  suitable  apparel,  and — and  it  would  not 
be  right  to — you  understand  me. 

Jenk.  Easy  get  over  that.  I’ve  some  samples  that  I 
promised  to  shew  here,  from  Oakey,  Moses  & Co., 
they’ll  just  fit  you.  You  shall  have  them. 

Grant.  No,  no  ! 

J ENK.  Oh,  you  shall,  (takes  out  7ioie  book) 

Grant.  Say  no  more.  If  I can  help  a friend  I will. 

(goes  Jip) 

Jenk.  (taps  Wyatt’s  shoulder y whispers)  Who’s  your 
tailor  ? — no  jokes.  I want  to  know. 

Wyatt.  Scroggin,  in  the  High-street. 

Jenk.  Thank’ee.  (to  Grant)  Sha’n’t  be  long.  Going 
for  the  samples. 

Jenkins  gets  to  door,  when  Grant  becko7is  hm  to 
stop.  Grant  joms  hm,  a7id  in  actio7i  asks  for  a 
loan,  zuhich  Jenkins  very  good-7iaturedly  complies 
with,  and  see77img  honoured  by  Grant’s  condesce7i- 
sion.  Jenkins  exits,  and  Grant  saunters  off,  l.c. 

Caleb.  Mate. 

Ida.  You  always  win.  You  must  give  me  something 
next  time — give  me  a castle. 


TWO  ROSES. 


21 


Caleb.  If  I had  one  you  should  have  it,  and  the 
broad  lands  too. 

Ida  turns  aiuay—  picks  up  the  hats,  Caleb  picks 
up  fishing  basket and  follows  her  off ^ r.d.  Lotty 
rises  as  if  to  go,  and  gets  R.  ^ Wyatt  as  Caleb 
a?id  Ida  go  out 

Wyatt.  Do  you  know,  Lotty,  I sometimes  fancy  the 
soul  is  like  a robe  of  life  ; cast  on  us  with  the  rough  and' 
vulgar,  it’s  like  a leather  jerkin,  but  with  the  sensitive 
.and  gentle  ’tis  a delicate  garment  that  gets  sadly  torn 
and  ravelled  in  our  scramble  through  the  world. 

Lotty.  Yes. 

Wyatt.  And  it  seems  the  sweet  office  of  woman  to 
come  with  her  love  as  with  a needle  and  thread — I’m 
not  joking — and  sew  up  these  grief-rents,  these  ragged 
places  the  thoughtless  make  in  a loving  life. 

Lotty.  {putting  down  her  work)  Yes,  only  sometimes 
we  make  the  rent  worse,  don’t  we,  and  sometimes  we 
tear  the  work  ourselves,  out  of  spite. 

Wyatt.  Yes,  and  sometimes  the  love’s  weak,  and  the 
"w  ork  comes  all  undone.  (Ida  peeps  in  at  door) 

Ida.  Lotty. 

Lotty.  I’m  coming,  {goes,^  r.) 

Ida.  Jack,  we  want  you  to  take  us  out. 

Wyatt.  Very  well.  {Exit  Ida) 

Lotty.  {returning)  Jack  ! 

Wyatt.  Well ! 

Lotty.  I will  try  {kneels  r,  of  Wyatt)  and  be  a good 
sempstress.  I will  sew  you  up  very  carefully.  Jack,  and 
the  work  shall  not  come  undone. 

Wyatt  A going  io  kiss  her  7vhe?i  Grant  looks  in; 
they  stop;  he  turns  back,  as  if  he  didiit  see  them 
kiss;  she  runs  off,  d.r.  Wyatt  gets  hat  to  follow. 

Grant,  {comes  down  to  Wyatt)  Wyatt,  at  the  present 
moment  my  cash  in  hand  is  the  paltry  sum  of  four  pounds 
eighteen  shillings.  \ ou  will  scarcely  believe  it. 

Wyatt.  I can  believe  the  eighteen  shillings. 

Grant.  You  will  be  surprised  at  my  saying  so.  I am 
going  to  be  your  debtor  for  ten  pounds. 


22 


TWO  ROSES. 


Wyatt.  1 am  not  surprised,  but  you  will  not  be  my 
debtor ; you  never  pay  me,  Mr.  Grant,  and  what  I lend 
you  does  no  good.  I want  to  save  all  I can  to  make  a 
home  for  Lotty.  (Lotty  a7id  Ida  come  to  side  door^  each 
trying  to  make  the  oilier  enter  firsts  they  having  the  fichm 
on)  Share  what  we  have  when  you  like. 

Both  Girls.  We  are  ready. 

Grant.  My  dear  boy.  {presses  haiid) 

Wyatt.  Aye,  and  ready-witted. 

They  go  out,  d.r.  During  the  last  line  Furnival 
has  blocked  at  door,  come  in,  a7id  when  they  are 
go7ie  out  Grant  iur7is  a7id  sees  hwi. 

Fur.  Mr.  Grant? 

Grant.  Yes. 

Fur.  Oh  ! dear  me  1 There  is  my  card — perhaps  you. 
expected  me — may  I look  round  ? 

Grant.  Certainly.  (Furnival  looks  at  sa77iplers  on 
wall)  “Furnival,  Solicitors.’'  {rises)  What  mess  am  I 
in  now  ? 

Fur.  Excuse  me,  you  bought  these  in  at  your  sale. 

Grant.  Sir,  I remember  with  pleasure  that  when  they 
were  put  up  no  one  would  bid  for  them. 

Fur.  Dear  me  ! {to  say  this  he  turns  fro77i  sa77ipler,  but 
keeps  the  eye-glass  through  which  he  has  looked  un7noved) 

Grant.  Except  a Jew  broker,  who  got  bonnetted*- 
That  chair  my  wife  sold  a ring  off  her  finger  to  buy  in- 
No  one  would  bid  against  her,  such  was  their  great 
respect  for  77ie,  You  know  something  of  my  affairs. 

Fur.  Thoroughly ; IVe  been  engaged  on  them  some 
time.  Allow  me  to  sit  ? 

Grant.  Certainly. 

They  sit  opposite  each  other,  a7id  during  the  sce7ie  each 
uses  a double  eye-glass,  and  whe7i  looking  up  f7‘077i 
papers  both  bep  the  eye-glasses  tnwwvea,  a7id  look 
over  at  one  another. 

Fur.  {takes  out  pape7's — ha7ids  07ie)  That  is  right,  I 
think.  You  are  Digby  Grant,  and  distinctly  related  to  De 
Chaperon  ? 


Grant.  Sir,  it  is  the  comfort  of  my  life. 

Fur.  Dear  me  ! you  seem  a strong  man — good  nerve 
— anything  in  that  bottle  ? 

Grant.  Sherry. 

Fur.  Good? 

Grant.  Very. 

Fur.  Take  a glass.  (Grant  does  so)  Well  now — 
perhaps  you’d  better  take  another.  (Grant  does  so)  Now 
you  can  bear  it.  That  is  all  correct. 

Grant.  Perfectly. 

Fur.  I congratulate  you.  You  are  worth  ten  thousand 
a-year. 

Grant,  {jumps  tip)  1!  {rises  ^ throws  off  smoking  cap  ^ 
goes  to  window  overcome) 

Fur.  Ah,  you  ought  to  have  taken  another — or — {looks 
at  him)  perhaps  you  had — taken  some  before — try  and 
keep  cool.  There  is  only  one  person  between  you  and 
the  whole  estates  of  De  Chaperon,  that  one  person,  if  in 
existence,  cannot  be  found — your  claim  will  not  be 
disputed. 

Grant.  Can  I take  possession  at  once  ? {at  back  of 
table) 

Fur.  No,  but  soon — meantime  I will  do  all  I can  for 
you.  You  may  occasionally  be  without  cash. 

Grant.  I occasionally  have  cash,  but  am  without  as  a 
rule. 

Fur.  Dear  me  ! I have  placed  j[^2^ooo  to  your  credit 
at  the  bankers  in  the  town — you  will  excuse  the  liberty? 

Grant.  Don’t  mention  it. 

Fur.  I have  also  brought  you  a cheque  book,  so  that 
you  may  use  it  at  once.  You’ll  forgive  me? 

Grant.  Freely ! 

Fur.  Then  for  the  present  I will  say  “ Good-bye.’’ 

Grant.  Allow  me  to  open  the  door.  I can  be  humble ; 
the  noble  spirit  is  not  inflated  by  prosperity. 

Fur.  Dear  me  ! {Exit) 

Grant,  {opens chequebook)  Thank  heaven,  I shall  now 
no  longer  be  under  any  obligation  to  any  one.  Let  me  see 
— yes — a little  cheque,  {he  signs  four  cheques)  A future 
opens  before  me ; the  public  acknowledge  wealth ; the 


24 


TWO  ROSES. 


ministry  influence.  Who  knows  but  by  a careful 
selection  of  politics  I may  yet  hide  my  grey  hairs  under 
a coronet,  {knock)  Come  in. 

Enter  Mrs.  Cups  with  hank  Jiotes, 

Mrs.  C.  O,  Mr.  Grant,  I have  got  the  money. 

Grant.  My  good  woman,  I wished  to  see  you.  If  you 
will  kindly  sit  down  a moment,  I will  attend  to  you. 
{signs  cheques) 

Enter  Lotty  and  Ida,  followed  by  Wyatt  a7id 
Caleb,  at  side  door, 

Lotty.  Here,  papa,  how  do  you  like  us  ? 

Grant.  My  dears,  come  close  to  me,  and  (cross)  take 
off  those  things, 

Lotty.  O,  papa,  we 

Grant.  Nay,  dear  children,  do  as  I bid  you,  take 
them  off. 

(they  do  so  wonderingly,  Wyatt  looks  surprised) 
Grant.  My  dear  children  (rising)  and — I know  not 
why  I should  not  say  my  friends — I have  to  some 
•extent  deceived  you.  I was,  like  Timon,  tired  of  the 
hollowness  of  the  world,  sick  of  its  tinsel  show,  and  I 
came  here  hoping  to  find  more  simple  joys  and  humble 
though  sincere  friendship.  I have  not  been  deceived. 
I may  mention  as  an  instance  the  kind  solicitude  of 
Mrs.  Cups.  She  was  quite  unaware  that  it  was  in  my 
power  to  repay  her  fully  ; she  shall  not  go  unrewarded. 
Mrs.  Cups,  a little  cheque,  (leaf's  it  prom  book  and  hands 
it)  I am  about  to  return  to  that  position  to  which  I am 
by  birth  entitled.  My  daughters  are  about  to  take  their 
place  in  society,  among  the  noblest  and  the  best. 

Jenk.  (a  little  titsy^  enters  quickly^  with  a bottle  and  a 
badly  folded  parcel)  Here’s  the  dry  sherry,  and  here  are 
the  kicksies ; they’ll  fit  you.  (displaying  a pair  op  light 
trousers  and  a white  waistcoat) 

Grant,  (is  a little  taken  aback)  My  worthy  friend,  I 
was  in  jest.  Our  Mr.  Jenkins,  a much  esteemed  though  hum- 
ble friend,  has  a good  heart.  I have  on  various  occasions 
noticed  that  he  has,  under  the  disguise  of  disburdening 
his  sample  case,  left  various  things  for  my  daughters, 
■such  as — as — shall  be  nameless.  He  cannot  be 


TWO  ROSES. 


25 


expected  to  possess  that  refinement  that  would  have 
made  it  clear  to  him  that  even  if  we  required  such  aid 
•our  pride  would  not  have  allowed  us  to  accept  it ; 
but  he  meant  well,  and  I ask  him  to  accept — a little 
cheque.  Mr.  Deecie,  with  whom  I deeply  sympathise, 
lent  my  daughters  a piano  ; he  did  not  mean  to  offend. 
I thank  him — a little  cheque.  (Caleb  rises  indig7iaiit. 
Grant  rises)  As  for  that  young  man  Wyatt,  though  a 
plebeian,  I would,  had  I found  him  worthy,  have 
formed  an  alliance  with  him,  but  he  is  not ; only  a few 
minutes  back,  to  test  him,  I asked  him  to  lend  me  ten 
pounds — he  would  have  been  repaid  in  thousands — 
but  he  has  the  worst  vice  of  the  vulgar — no  faith,  no 
confidence-^1  will  have  no  more  to  do  with  him. 
(Lotty  goes  to  Wyatt.  Grant  takes  her  hatid  and  crosses 
her  ill  front  of  table  L.  where  she  sinks  in  grief  Ida 
goes  behind  and  consoles  hei')  I am  indebted  to  him  in 
some  small  sums — twenty,  perhaps  thirty  pounds.  I 
wish  never  to  see  him  again.  I clear  the  score — a little 
cheque,  {takes  out  cheque  and  offers  it) 

Tableau, 

Act  drop  moderately  quick. 


ACT  II. 

A room  in  Mr.  Jenkins’s  house,  Wyatt’s  lodgings.  On 
the  table  are  oranges^  nuts^  and  a decanter  of  wine^  and 
glasses.  On  the  harmonium  Caleb’s  violin.  It  is 
Sunday  afternoon^  Caleb  is  playing  hamnonium^  and 
Mr.  Jenkins  is  singing  a bar  or  two  as  the  curtain 
rises,  Mrs.  Jenkins  in  her  wedding  dress  of  silver 
grey  silk,  white  mittens,  white  collar,  little  black  silk 
apron;  she  is  very  neat,  but  methodical,  and  displays 
great  fear  of  soiling  her  dress.  She  listens  with  a kind 
of  fat,  dreamy  devotion,  her  head  thrown  up  as  she 
waves  it  ffom  side  to  side. 

Mrs.  J.  Edward,  with  your  voice,  why  don’t  you  sing 
in  chapel? 

Jenk.  Because  I haven’t  Caleb  to  play,  {crosses  and 
fills  glass) 


26 


TWO  ROSES. 


Mrs.  J.  Ah,  Snookletoe  had  a fine  voice.  He  was  a 
cloister  in  the  Abbey  once,  now  he’s  an  arch  angel. 

Wyatt.  One  to  Our  Mrs.  Jenkins  ; punning,  and  on 
Sunday  too.  We  w’ant  Ida  to  sound  the  alarm. 

Jenk.  I dare  say,  though  you  don't  talk  of  ’em,  you 
often  think  of  your  two  roses,  as  you  called  them,  Wyatt. 

Wyatt.  I protest  to  thee,  Our  Mr.  Jenkins 

Caleb.  Order  ! Jack’s  going  to  lecture. 

Wyatt.  Give  that  fellow  a glass,  Jenks.  {in  mock  heroic 
style')  Now,  I protest,  I say,  that  if  one  makes  a great 
show  of  his  feelings  ’tis  often  like  a coat  of  paint,  that  a 
little  time  wears  off ; but  true  affection  makes  small  show 
but  like  a vein  in  marble  goes  right  through  a man,  and 
neither  sudden  violence  nor  slow  time  can  wear  it  away. 

Caleb,  {solemnly)  Hear  ! hear  ! 

Jenk.  I can  never  tell  whether  you  two  are  serious  or 
not. 

Wyatt.  In  downright  diabolical  earnest,  I.  All  my 
thoughts  are  edged  with  black  ; every  jesting  word  has  a 
margin  of  sorrow,  like  a comic  song  on  mourning  paper. 

Mrs.  J.  {looks  at  watch.  To  Jenkins)  Edward,  are 
you  going  to  dress  yourself,  or  must  I go  to  chapel  alone? 

Jenk.  Well,  if  you  put  it  in  that  way,  I’d  rather  you 
went  alone,  my  darling. 

Caleb.  Rather  you  went  alone,  my  darling. 

(Mrs.  Jenkins  at  Caleb) 

Wyatt.  Our  Mrs.  Jenkins,  may  I have  the  pleasure  ? 

They  drink  wine  together  with  great  solemnity^  she 
being  particularly  careful  not  to  soil  her  dress, 

Mrs.  j.  Do  you  mean  to  change  your  clothes, 
Edward  ? If  Snookletoe  had  worn  striped  trousers  on 
Sunday  I’d  have  left  him. 

Jenk.  Ah ! striped  trousers  have  lost  their  effect* 
(rises)  Well,  get  me  some  hot  water,  dear. 

Mrs.  j.  How  can  I in  this  dress  ? 

Jenk,  Well,  don’t  wear  it. 

Mrs,  j.  Were  we  not  married  in  this  dress  ? 

Jenk.  We?  Yes  ! Well  I was  not  an  important  item^ 
in  the  ceremony — we  were.  But  you  need  not  remind 
me  of  it  every  week. 


TWO  ROSES. 


27 


Mrs.  J.  Didn't  you  choose  the  colour  ? 

Jenk.  I did.  I believe  the  stool  of  repentance  is 
covered  with  silver  grey  silk. 

Mrs.  J.  O,  Edward  ! am  I not  your  wife  ? 

Jenk.  I can't  deny  it. 

Caleb.  He  wishes  he  could. 

{gives  a scrape  at  fiddle,  Mrs.  Jenkins  looks  mdignant)- 

Mrs.  j.  I think,  Mr.  Wyatt,  you  look  thin.  I'm  afraid 
you  fret. 

Wyatt.  Mrs,  Jenkins)  Do  I look  very  haggard?' 
Has  every  evil  from  Pandora’s  box  rumpled  my  face  ? 

Jenk.  I wonder  they  let  those  Pandoras  have  a box 
in  a respectable  theatre. 

Mrs.  j.  Please  not  to  make  those  allusions  before  me, 
Edward,  {to  Wyatt)  My  dear,  may  you  always  look  as 
handsome  and  live  as  long  as  you  do  now,  and  be  a 
comfort  to  your  dear  mother,  who  through  many  years  of 
pain  and  trouble  has  brought  you  to  it. 

Wyatt.  I vow,  Our  Mrs.  Jenkins 

Caleb,  Order  for  Jack  ! 

Wyatt.  I vow  by  the  Cestus  of  Venus  that  encircled 
less  beauty  than  I now  gaze  on 

Mrs.  j.  Ah,  it's  a pleasure  to  be  looked  at  by  some 
people. 

Wyatt.  I vow  that  if  ever  Our  Mr.  Jenkins  ever- 
should — give  up  the  ghost. 

Jenk.  Give  up — cut  it,  I never  had  a ghost. 

Mrs.  j.  Edward  ! Flesh  is  grass,  Mr.  Wyatt, 

Jenk.  (aside,  luith  a glance  at  her)  I wish  it  was.  I'd  go 
haymaking  to-morrow. 

Wyatt.  I would  lay  my  fDrtunes  at  your  feet. 

Caleb.  No,  we'd  have  her  between  us.  Jack. 

Jenk.  Form  a joint-stock  company,  with  power  to* 
increase  your  number.  I’ll  go  and  have  a smoke. 

(rises,  crossing  itp,  l.c.) 

Mrs.  j.  Edward,  you'll  do  no  such  thing.  I'm  not 
going  to  have  everyone  in  the  pew  sniffing  as  they  did 
last  Sunday. 


28 


TWO  ROSES. 


Jenk.  {fo  Wyatt,  r.)  Isn’t  she  a lovely  warning? 
'{turns  to  her)  Will  you  get  me  some  hot  water  ? 

Mrs.  J.  You’re  always  wanting  hot  water. 

Caleb.  And  he’s  always  in  it. 

Jenk.  Well,  I’m  waiting,  darling. 

Caleb.  He’s  waiting,  darling. 

Mrs.  J.  {quickly)  Do  you  allow  that  young  man  to 
call  me  darling  ? 

Jenk.  Yes,  I do,  it’s  too  much  for  me  alone 

Mrs.  j.  Ugh  ! {turns  aw  a}') 

Jenk.  Ah! 

{Exit  Jenkins,  d.r.u.e.  ; Wyatt  bows  to  Mrs 
Jenkins  and  drinks ; Caleb  goes  up  to  piano) 

Mrs.  j.  {to  Wyatt)  That’s  a very  impudent  young 
man,  and  he  don’t  seem  conscious  of  his  affliction.  They 
‘say  pity  the  poor  blind  ; but  he  seems  determined  not  to 
feel  his  own  suffering,  which  is  most  impious ; for  when 
tribulation  comes  we  ought  to  tribulate,  and  not  fly  in 
the  face  of  Providence  and  be  happy. 

Wyatt.  Ah,  Caleb’s  a very  good  fellow.  It  was  won- 
derful how  he  nursed  me  when  I was  ill.  He  went 
about  the  room  like  a woman.  He  never  made  the 
least  noise,  stayed  by  my  bed  night  after  night,  and  never 
seemed  tired. 

Mrs  j.  Well,  it  is  wonderful  what  he  can  do;  but  he 
treats  me  with  no  more  respect  than  a monthly  nurse 
does  a single  gentleman.  And  the  things  he  says  to  me 
.are  shameful,  (Caleb  goes  to  his  violin)^  and  you  know 
walls  have  ears. 

Caleb.  And  mouths  too,  by  the  way  my  tobacco  goes. 

I believe  you  chew. 

Mrs.  j.  Now,  did  you  ever  hear?  It’s  the  gals  that 
takes  the  things.  My  ham  goes — my  beef  goes 

Caleb.  And  as  for  your  tongue,  it’s  going  from 
morning  to  night. 

(Mrs.  Jenkins  gets  tip  and  moves  a step  towards  him) 

Caleb.  Ah,  halloa  ! Our  Mrs.  Jenkins  got  new  boots; 

I thought  I heard  a strange  creak  a little  while  ago. 


TWO  ROSES. 


29. 


Mrs.  J.  Well,  did  any  one  see  the  like  ! 

(she  goes  o?i  tiptoe  behind  him^  as  though  to  take  hold 
of  his  ear) 

Caleb,  (how  in  ha?id)  Ah  ! you  dare  lay  a finger  on 
me,  and  by  my  virgin  honour  I’ll  scream  ! Jack,  isn’t  she 
a roll  of  music  ? 

He  places  his  hatid  daintily  beneath  her  chin  with 
his  fingers  bent,  as  though  she  were  a viol,  and 
drazas  the  bozv  across  herzvaistba7id,zohistling a scale 

Mrs.  J.  O,  Mr.  Deecie,  do  mind  my  dress,  (looks  at 
watch)  Where  is  that  man?  (goes  to  door  to  stairs') 
Edward,  have  you  changed  your  clothes  ? 

(Exit,  R.  door  2 e.) 

Caleb.  Jack,  the  silver  grey  mare’s  the  better  horse. 

Wyatt.  Ah,  poor  Jenkins  has  made  a mistake.  It’s, 
a case  of  jack-boot  and  carpet-slipper,  both  well  in  their 
way,  but  they  don’t  match.  The  thing  is,  will  the  slipper 
be  pieced  out  into  a boot,  or  the  boot  cut  down  to  a 
slipper. 

Caleb.  The  boot’ll  be  cut  down,  Jenkins  must  be 
reduced.  A man  can’t  raise  a woman.  Jack,  but  the 
woman  can  cut  down  the  man  ; and  yet  they  say 
marriages  are  made  in  Heaven. 

Wyatt.  It’s  a deuce  of  a long  voyage,  Caleb,  and 
perhaps  like  some  other  imports,  they  suffer  in  the 
transit.  It’s  jolly  to  be  a bachelor.  (l)ehind  table) 

Caleb.  Yes,  it’s  jolly  to  walk  when  you  can’t  ride^ 
(scrape) 

Wyatt.  Put  down  that  cursed  fiddle. 

Caleb.  Jack,  you’re  breaking  your  heart  about  Lotty, 
and  you  try  to  gloss  it  over, 

Wyatt.  Poor  Lotty,  we  might  have  been  happy  if  it 
hadn’t  been  for  her  sycophant  father,  with  his  family  con- 
nections, as  if  birth  wasn’t  a mere  accident. 

Caleb.  Don’t  see  it.  Jack.  If  you  sow  wheat,  is  it  an 
accident  that  wheat  comes  up  ? 

Wyatt.  No. 

Caleb.  Then  if  you  sow  Robinsons,  is  it  an  accident, 
that  you  don’t  get  young  Smiths  or  Joneses  ? 


30 


TWO  ROSES. 


Wyatt.  I mean  that  idea  of  a dull  clod  boasting  about 
the  blood  of  the  Howards  or  the  Russells  running  in  his 
veins.  Why  a noble  river  may  sluice  a ditch,  but  it’s  a 
ditch  still.  Neither  Poole  nor  the  Herald  Office  can 
make  a gentleman. 

Caleb.  Jack,  you’re  a humbug.  Lotty’s  among 
:swells,  so  you  hate  them. 

Wyatt.  Not  I,  my  boy.  (r.  of  table)  I feel  grateful 
when  I see  a nobly-dressed  swell.  There’s  a fine 
thoughtfulness  of  others  about  him ; such  fellows  as  you 
•and  I spend  our  money  on  books  and  beer,  and  pamper 
our  wits  and  our  wallets  for  our  own  special  enjoyment. 
But  a swell  he  gets  himself  up  for  others,  and  he  makes 
himself  fine  for  me  to  look  at.  He  pays  himself  for 
buttons  and  rings  and  chains  for  me  to  admire.  He 
charges  me  nothing  to  see  him ; I don’t  have  to  get  a 
ticket,  but  he  comes  out  and  I have  a front  place  gratis. 
He  don’t  even  want  me  to  applaud,  but  goes  on  per- 
severinglyin  spite  of  the  debts  and  pains,  making  himself 
beautiful  to  see,  and  perhaps  while  I’m  enjoying  his 
patent  boots  he’s  suffering  from  corns.  O,  he’s  a noble 
creature  is  a swell,  (sits  in  chair) 

Caleb.  Very  good  song,  very  well  sung;  but  the 
chorus  is  still  you’re  a humbug,  Jack.  The  fact  is  you 
are  as  weak  as  the  swell,  and  you  try  to  make  a show  of 
contempt.  We  are  very  like  a lot  of  fiddles ; some  are 
big,  some  are  little,  some  sound,  some  cracked,  but 
there’s  a certain  old  fiddler  (points  donni)  who  manages  to 
get  the  sam.e  tune  out  of  us  all. 

Wyatt,  (pause — cracks  lu  at  nut)  PoorLotty! 

Caleb.  Poor  Jack  ! 

Wyatt.  I wonder  whom  she’ll  marry. 

Caleb.  Some  swell.  I wonder  who’ll  marry  you  ? 

AVyatt.  (putting  doivn  crackers)  I shall  never  marry. 

Caleb,  (gives  a little  sc7'ape)  Ah  ! 

Wyatt.  Put  down  that  cursed  fiddle,  (sits  m arm-chair) 
Caleb,  am  I a vain  man  ? 

Caleb.  No. 

Wyatt.  If  I said  I thought  a lady  had  fallen  in  love 
Avith  me  would  you  call  me  vain  then  ? 

Caleb.  No 


TWO  ROSES. 


31 


Wyatt.  Well,  I believe  a lady  has 

Caleb.  What  makes  you  think  so  ? 

Wyatt.  AVhy,  you  know  how  very  attentive  Our 
Mrs.  Jenkins 

Caleb,  (scrape)  Oh,  shade  of  Potipher,  kisnk  the 
silver  grey  mare  ? 

Wyatt.  Stuff  ! will  you  listen  ? {in  arm-chair) 

Caleb.  Like  an  echo. 

Wyatt.  Mrs.  Jenkins  is  not  a liberal  woman. 

Caleb.  I believe  she  spends  her  leisure  in  trying  to 
discover  how  to  boil  half  an  egg. 

Wyatt.  Well,  hasn’t  it  seemed  odd  to  you  that  lately 
I’ve  only  had  to  express  a wish,  and  it’s  been  attended 
to  ? This  strange  lady’s  brought  the  cornucopia,  and 
Mrs.  Jenkins  only  held  out  her  apron. 

Caleb.  And  I’ll  warrant  it  wasn’t  a small  one. 

Wyatt.  The  cornucopia  ? 

Caleb.  No,  the  apron. 

Wyatt.  Well,  Caleb,  I’ve  put  an  end  to  it.  The  lady 
made  the  silver  grey  promise  not  to  tell,  but 

Caleb.  The  silver  grey  was  a woman. 

Wyatt.  And  behaved  as  sick.  So  I’ve  given  Our  Mrs. 
Jenkins  a note  for  the  lady,  saying  I loved  once  and  shall 
never  love  again. 

Caleb,  (plays  and  sings)  “ Nobody  ax’d  you,  sir,  she 
said,  sir,  she  ” 

Wyatt.  Caleb,  Sunday. 

Caleb,  (puls  down  violin)  I forgot.  So  you  think 
you’ve  put  an  end  to  the  affair. 

Wyatt.  Certainly ; what  do  you  think  ? 

Caleb.  Well,  I think 

Wyatt.  Well,  what  ? 

Caleb.  But  I 07ily  think 

Wyatt.  Out  with  it. 

Caleb.  Well,  I think  the  lady  will  be  pleased  with  the 
note. 

Wyatt.  Pleased  ! (rises ^ goes  to  fire)  I don’t  see  it. 

Caleb.  No,  that’s  the  great  advantage  of  being  blind. 
I do. 


3^ 


TWO  ROSES. 


E7iter  at  back  door  Jenkins  carry  mg  a lot  of  do  fheSy 
h7‘ozvn  paper  rounds  thein, 

Jenk.  AVyatt.  {tip  l.  of  table) 

W YATT.  Dear  boy.  {rises) 

Jenk.  Dont  you  remember  me  when  I was  a jolly 
fellow  ? 

Wyatt.  I don’t  remember  when  you  weren’t. 

Jenk.  Look  at  me  now. 

\Vyatt.  I do,  with  pleasure. 

Jenk.  Wyatt,  I’m  wasting  away  like  a scraped  horse- 
radish. 

Wyatt.  Why,  what’s  the  matter  ? 

Jenk.  Mrs.  Jenkins  ; and  I’ve  got  her  badly.  How  I 
did  long  to  gain  possession  of  that  woman,  and  now  I’ve 
got  her,  I’m  like  a thief  with  a big  bank  note,  I don’t 
know  what  to  do  with  her. 

Caleb.  ’Tis  a pity  you  can’t  cash  her.  Two  hundred 
pounds. 

Jenk.  {displaying  clothes)  Look  here,  I went  to  the 
tailors  and  ordered  a blue  coat,  a genteel  pair  of  checked 
kicksies,  and  a buff  >vaistcoat ; she’s  countermanded  the 
order,  and  look  what  they’ve  sent  me. 

Wyatt,  {lifts  np  coat)  Black  frock  coat,  eh  ! (r.  of  table'} 

Jenk.  Go  on  ! 

Wyatt.  Black  vest — rather  clerical. 

Jenk,  Go  on  ! 1 {Caleb  goes  up  stage) 

Wyatt.  Black  trousers,  too.  Any  one  dead  ? 

Jenk.  No,  go  on  ! ! ! 

Wyatt,  {getting  to  bottom  of  parcel)  White  choker. 

Jenk.  Twelve  on  ’em! 

Wyatt.  What  does  this  mean  ? 

Jenk.  It  means  meetings,  it  means  holding  the  plate; 
am  I fit  to  hold  the  plate  ? The  knife  and  fork’s  more  in 
my  way. 

Wyatt.  Our  Mr.  Jenkins,  you’re  married. 

Jenk.  They’ll  think  on  the  road  I am  getting  subscrip- 
tions for  an  anti-beer  association.  When  I hold  out  my 
plate  at  the  commercial  table  the  fellows  ’ll  put  ha’pence 
into  it ; they’ll  call  me  Skinner,  Fox  and  Eaton’s  chaplain, 
and  old  Dick  Bosky  at  night  will  say,  ‘‘  Perhaps  the 


TWO  ROSES. 


33  • 


reverend  gent  in  the  choker’ll  tip  us  a comic  song.”  I 
shouldn’t  wonder  if  they  call  me  Bishop  Jenkins,  and  ask 
me  if  I’ve  got  thirty-nine  articles  in  my  sample  case  ; if 
my  \)xmc\p als  are  orthodox,  and  whether  I’ve  taken  holy 
orders. 

Wyatt.  You’ll  look  well  in  black,  Jenks. 

Jenk.  Well  ! Here  was  old  Dick  Bosky,  he’s  only  in 
London  once  in  three  months,  had  written  to  me  to  ask 
me  to  come  over  and  meet  Barton  and  Dan  Cradle — 
JMoses  Cradle — not  E.  Moses,  Oakey  Moses  of  Norton 
Court,  and  we  were  going  to  . open  half-a-dozen  of  phiz, 
and  now  Mrs.  Jenkins  wants  me  to  put  on  these  and  go 
and  hold  the  plate.  I’ll  be^ 

Wyatt.  Hush ! 

Jenk.  Can  you  lend  me  a newspaper? 

Wyatt.  Yes,  here’s  Saturday’s. 

Jenk.  Any  day’s,  {folds  it  up  into  a parcel  about  seve7t 
inches  sqiiare^  a7id  then  puts  it  into  a part  op  the  browu 
pape7^  Got  a piece  of  red  tape  ? 

Wyatt.  Yes  ; what  are  you  up  to  ? 

Jenk.  You’ll  see.  {ties  it  up)  Doesn’t  that  look  like  a 
deed  going  to  a lawyer’s?  {crosses  a7id  dips  pen  in  ink) 

Wyatt.  Something. 

Jenk.  Just  direct  it.  F.  Furnival,  Esq.,  Ely  Place. 

Wyatt.  What’s  the  joke  ? 

Jenk.  ’Tisn’t  a joke,  it’s  a subterfuge.  (Wyatt 

Wyatt.  What’s  the  subterfuge? 

Jenk.  Mrs.  Jenkins  knows  you  have  particular 
business  with  Furnival ; and  she’ll  stand  anything 
to  please  you,  if  it  don’t  cost  money,  so  I shall  go  with 
this  for  you  and  call  on  Bosky,  and  see  Barton  and  Moses. 
Cradle. 

Wyatt.  And  open  the  phiz — take  care ! 

Jenk.  We’ll  drink  your  health. 

Wyatt.  And  Mrs.  J.’s. 

Mrs.  J.  {without^  loud  and  sharp)  Edward  ! 

Jenk.  No,  we  won’t.  r.u.e.) 

Wyatt.  Jolly  to  be  a bachelor,  Caleb;  go  out  when 
you  like,  come  home  when  you  like,  see  whom  you  like, 
wear  what  you  like,  do  what  you  like.  Poor  Jenkins  ! 

Caleb.  Poor  Jack  ! Chorus,  humbug. 


34 


TWO  ROSES. 


Wyatt.  Ah  ! hearts  are  like  bets,  you  may  win  a dozen 
and  never  get  paid  one. 

Caleb.  I do  wish  you’d  break  out  into  a good  manly 
growl,  and  not  keep  snarling,  Jack. 

Wyatt.  Well,  I will.  Plainly,  Caleb,  that  faithless  girl 
has  nearly  made  a bad  man  of  me.  I begin  to  have  a 
feeling  that’s  very  much  like  hate;  why,  I can  almost  feel 
her  'kisses  on  my  neck,  and — Oh,  this  is  a damn’d 
wicked  world. 

Caleb.  That’ll  do  nicely ; growl  to  be  repeated  four 
times  a-day,  until  the  patient’s  better. 

Mrs.  J.  {outside)  Yes,  sir,  he’s  at  home,  but  strange 
enough 

Enter  Mrs.  Jenkins  and  Furnival,  r.u.e. 

Mrs.  J.  He’s  just  sent  a deed  on  to  you. 

Wyatt,  {aside)  Whew  ! Jenkins’ll  get  smoked. 

Fur.  a deed  ! Oh  ! — dear  me  ! 

{looks  inquiringly  at  Wyatt) 

Mrs.  j.  But  I daresay  the  girl  can  catch  him. 

Wyatt.  No,  don’t  do  that ; it’s  not  very  important. 

Mrs.  j.  Not  important ! and  you  send  him  on  a 
Sunday,  when  I wanted 

Wyatt.  Well,  not  very  important,  and  there’s  no 
knowing  which  way  he’s  gone,  {aside)  Jenkins  has  done 
it. 

Mrs.  j.  I shall  send  the  girl  after  him. 

(hows  stiffly^  and  goes  out) 

Fur.  You’ll  excuse  me  calling  on  Sunday,  Mr.  Wyatt 
hut  I don’t  look  on  this  matter  as  an  affair  of  business 
it’s  a kind  of  duty,  and  I would  lose  no  time,  {takes  out 
papers^  looks  at  iheni  through  double  eye-^lass^  as  in  Act  /. 
and  looking  at  Wyatt  it  without  moving  it)  Will  you 
kindly  look  at  these?  By-the-bye,  what  is  it  you’ve 
sent  to  me? 

Wyatt,  {smiling)  Well — eh — nothing.  The  fact  is 

Mrs.  Jenkins  has  a husband. 

Fur.  Dear  me  ! 

Wyatt.  And  consequently  Mr.  Jenkins  is  married, 
and 


TWO  ROSES. 


35 


Fur.  I see,  he’s  overdone  it.  That  woman  is  too  much 
amongst  one.  Poor  fellow  ! (looks  over  papers^  ihen  looks 
tip)  Send  Mr.  Jenkins  whenever  you  like.  Women,  Mr. 
Wyatt — women  are  like  boots,  very  useful,  very  desirable, 
but  a torment  if  you  get  a misfit.  You’re  young,  every 
woman’s  a rose  to  you ; but,  sir,  you’ll  find  as  she 
blossoms  she  opens  more  and  more,  and  gold’s  at  her 
heart ; then  the  petals  fall  one  by  one,  and  soon  there’s 
nothing  but  stalk  and  thorns.  (pends  over  paper^ 

Wyatt.  Sir,  you  exactly  express  my  sentiments. 

Fur.  (looks  up)  Dear  me,  sorry  for  it.  Will  you,  as 
near  as  you  can,  fill  in  those  dates  ? (hands  paper^  and 
perhaps,  while  you  do  so,  you’ll  allow  me  to  look  round. 

Wyatt.  Certainly. 

Fur.  (rises)  A portrait  of  your  father  ? 

Wyatt,  (al  papers)  Yes. 

Fur.  Dear  me ! Yes,  I see  the  likeness.  Nothing 
bad,  very  amiable,  a little  weak  ; under  good  influences 
might  be  everything  noble,  under  bad  might  be  ruined. 

Wyatt.  He  was. 

Fur.  Dear  me,  sorry  I commented,  (looks  hard  at 
Wyatt,  then  at  picture)  Very  like. 

Wyatt.  You  want  the  date  when  I first  met  him. 

Fur.  (looking  with  glass) 

iN.B,  He  only  uses  his  glass  to  look  at  objects  close  to  him) 

Yes,  just  so.  (looks  at  portrait)  Your  mother,  I 
suppose. 

Wyatt.  Yes,  God  bless  her! 

Fur.  You  may  well  say  that ; a sweet  face,  sort  of 
woman  to  dote  on  her  children  ; wouldn’t  want  to  vote, 
trouble  more  about  her  jam  going  mouldy  than  the 
Ministry  being  defeated. 

“ Heaven  in  her  eye,  and  in  her  hands  are  keys.’^ 

Ah,  Crabbe,  out  of  date.  (check  sunlight) 

Wyatt.  Yes,  this  is  all  right ; you  seem  to  be  getting 
at  the  truth. 

Fur.  Yes,  I think  so.  Just  kindly  see  if  I have  your 
information  all  right  in  the  third  paper — (looks  at  little 
picture)  Dear  me — two  roses  1 It’s  not  exactly — (Jooks 


36 


TWO  ROSES. 


with  glass)  Oh,  I see — Lotty — work  of  a younger 
sister  ? 

Wyatt.  Of  a younger  sister,  but  not  mine. 

Fur.  Dear  me  ! O,  yes,  yes,  I see — {looks  at  Caleb. 
and  listens  to  him  as  he  plays  very  softly  all  through 
scene)  Charming. 

Wyatt,  {at  papers).  The  name  is  spelt  with  three  ds. 

Fur.  O,  just  so,  please  alter  it — {sees  cheque  tender 
case) — Canterbury  Bank.  Digby  Grant ! How  came 
you  to  put  this  cheque  in  a case  ? 

Wyatt.  A mere  whim.  Did  you  know  Grant  ? 

Fur.  Well  ! — eh — eh.  Did  you  ? 

Wyatt.  Oh,  yes,  Lotty’s  father,  {check  battens) 

Fur.  Oh ! 

Wyatt.  That’s  all  I can  do,  and  you’ve  got  it  in  good 
train,  I think,  {giving  hack  papers) 

Fur.  I think  so.  {puts  them  up) 

Wyatt.  Come  along,  Caleb,  we’ll  go  to  tea ; and,  Mr.. 
Furnival,  perhaps  you  will  stay  and  have  some  tea  with 
us.  I am  sure  my  mother  will  be  pleased  to  see  you. 

Fur.  Certainly!  with  pleasure,  {casting  a glance  at  the 
little  picture)  Her  father  ! dear  me  ! 

Wyatt,  Furnival  and  Caleb  door  to  room, 
Mrs.  Jenkins  opetis  door  and  looks  m carefully ^ 
then  to  sotneone  outside. 

Mrs.  J.  {speaking  off)  Yes,  they  have  gone  in  to  tea, 
dear. 

Enter  Lotty  m beautiful  walking  dress  a?id  zv earing  a 
lot  of  pier, 

Lotty.  You’re  sure  he  won’t  come  out. 

Mrs.  J.  (r.)  Not  for  half  an  hour,  my  dear.  I’ve  been 
expecting  to  see  you  some  time ; won’t  you  come  to  the 
fire? 

Lotty.  No,  thank  you.  I walked,  and  I’m  warm ; 
and,  oh,  Mrs.  Jenkins,  I’m  never  coming  any  more. 

Mrs.  j.  Why  not,  my  dear? 

Lotty.  O something  has  happened — I shall  break  my 
heart,  {taking  out  handkerchief  then  brings  out  parcel) 
And  didn’t  you  say  he  wanted  silver  forks? 


TWO  ROSES.  37 

Mrs.  J.  Yes,  my  dear,  as  if  I could  afford  it,  such 
times  as  these. 

Lotty.  Dreadful  times,  aren’t  they?  There  are  the 
forks.  (Mrs.  Jenkins  takes  parcel  and  ope?is  it)  Could  I 
get  just  one  little  peep  of  him  through  the  keyhole  ? 

Mrs.  J.  If  he’s  this  side  of  the  room.  (Lotty  looks) 
How  she  is  in  love  with  him  ; and  something  like  lo\  e it 
is  {looks  at  forks)  — real  silver — hall  marked,  (pinng  ladder 
half  down) 

Lotty.  I can  see  Jack’s  leg — no,  that’s  an  old  gentle- 
man— oh,  that’s  Jack  handing  a lady  some  cake.  How 
well  he  hands  cake.  Now  he’s  gone.  You  won’t  tell 
him  I brought  the  forks,  {coining  back) 

Mrs.  j.  My  dear,  he  shan’t  know  but  what  they’re  my 
own. 

Lotty.  How  kind.  Is  there  anything  else  he  wants  ? 

Mrs.  j.  (c.)  He’s  al  vays  wanting  things  got  for  his 
mother,  and  he  says  he’ll  pay  me  extra  rent  if  I’ll  get 
’em,  but  I can’t. 

Lotty.  (r.c.)  O,  I’ll  pay  for  them,  only  don’t  let  him 
know. 

Mrs.  j.  (c.)  Ah,  you’ve  a gold  mine  of  a heart — he 
ought  to  be  very  grateful,  but  he  shan’t  know  a word.  I’ll 
charge  him  the  extra,  and  he’ll  think  I bought  them 
myself. 

Lotty.  {up  at  mantelpiece)  You  are  so  kind.  Which  is 
the  pipe  he  smokes  most  ? 

Mrs.  j.  That  one  at  the  bottom. 

Lotty.  What,  that  nasty — no,  I don’t  mean  that — the 
dark  one  ? 

Mrs.  j.  Yes-  my  dear,  and  nasty  enough  it  is,  I think. 

Lotty.  {takes  it  down  daintily  in  her  gloved  hand) 
Will  you  look  if  it  snows,  Mrs.  Jenkins?  (Mrs.  Jenkins 
goes  to  windoid)  Oh,  how  dreadfully  it  smells.  No~  I — I 
ought  to  like  the  smell  of  it.  {she  kisses  the  pipe  and 
shudders)  Oh,  how  wicked  I am  to  go  like  that  at 
Jack’s  pipe,  {puts  it  hack) 

Mrs.  j.  No,  my  dear,  it  don’t  snow  now. 

Lotty.  There  wasn’t  anything  else  I was  to  bring,  was 
there  ? 


o 


TWO  ROSES. 


Mrs.  J.  No;  but  dear  me,  I'd  nearly  forgotten  some- 
thing. Here's  a letter  for  you  ; I've  had  it  a week. 

Lotiy.  I thought  you  didn’t  mention 

Mrs.  J.  Well,  my  dear,  I didn’t  exactly.  I only  said 
a lady  did  call — but  I said  nothing  about  her  being  a 
you72g  lady. 

Ready  at  lio/its,  Mrs.  Jenkins  ctases  wiiido^o- 
mrtams^  tJwi  sits  on  music-stool^  while  Lotty  reads^ 
her  letter  by  the  fii'e-light^  on  her  Jznees. 

Lotty.  (ppe7is  letter^  Jack  don’t  improve  in  his  writing,. 
(7‘eads  to  herself)  Dear  Lady^  jojgive  meP'^  How  kind' 
of  Jack  to  ask  to  be  forgiven  before  he  says  anything., 
“ 1 know  not  by  what  meaiis  1 have  gamed  so  strong  a hold' 
on  the  affectmis  of  a strajtgerf — what  a vain  old  goose 
he  must  be  ! — “ but  I can  only  return  it  with  sincere 
thanks. The  lady  is  very  glad  to  hear  it,  Jack.  “ ./ 
have  loved  once.^^  That  means  me.  “ 1 thought  her  true., 
buc  she  jorsook  me  ! I have  suffered  much  from  jalsehoodf 
— how  wicked  of  Jack  to  say  I was  false  ! — and  i shall 
never  love  again 

Caleb,  {loudly  within)  Stop  lecturing  and  give  us 
some  cake,  Jack. 

Lotty.  {runs  and  kneels  at  keyhole  again)  Lecturing! 
bless  him ! 

Mrs.  J.  Well,  i:  any  one  ever  was  in  love,  she  is. 

Lotty.  {on  her  knees.,  wipes  her  eyes)  Oh.  Jack,  I do 
wish  you  knew  how  I love  you. 

Grant,  (without)  The  first-floor  front,  you  say. 

Lotty.  Oh,  {jumping  up)  there’s  my  father;  put  me 
somewhere  out  of  the  way.  (Mrs.  Jenkins  looks  aghast) 

Lotty.  O,  do,  do,  do — please  do,  I wouldn’t  have  him 
see — {tap  at  door.  Lotty  goes  to  window  nearest  the 
audience  and  wraps  hersel)  up  in  curtain. 

Mrs.  j.  Come  in. 

Enter  Grant  and  Ida.  Grant  is  now  finely 
dressed  and  has  an  imposing  appearance.  Ida. 
dressed  exactly  like  Lotty 

{N.B. — He  is  now  De  Chaperon,  bnt  through  the  piece 

the  pari  will  be  marked  Grant) 


TWO  ROSES. 


39 


Grant.  Is  Mr.  Wyatt  in  ? 

Mrs.  J.  Yes,  sir,  he’s  at  tea.  (recognises  him)  Oh,  dear 
me,  Mr.  de  Chaperon,  (curtseys  to  him  and  then  to  Ida) 
Well,  this  is  an  honour. 

Grant.  Will  Mr.  Wyatt  be  long  ? 

Mrs  J.  Oh,  no,  sir ; he  wouldn’t  think  of  keeping  you 
waiting.  And  to  think  I should  have  the  honour.  IVe 
often  seen  you  at  the  meetings,  sir,  and  only  last  week  I 
remember  your  addressing  me  and  five  thousand  more 
sufferers,  when  we  sat  squeezed  up  in  Exeter  Hall.  Ah, 
what  a beautiful  speech  you  made.  I fancy  I see  you 
now  appealing  the  audience.  But  to  think  I should  have 
the  honour,  (curtseys) 

Grant.  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  Mr.  W^yatt  I 
am  here  ? 

Mrs.  JenkIns  is  about  to  curtsey  and  speak,  when  he- 

looks  severely  at  her,  and  she  goes  out  at  door  to 

stairs. 

Grant.  Do  you  wish  to  speak  to  this  man  Wyatt,  that 
you’ve  come  with  me,  Ida  ? 

Ida.  (indifferently)  No. 

Grant.  What  folly  is  this,  what  folly  is  this  ? Do  you 
mean  him  to  see  you,  or  do  )^ou  not  ? • 

Ida.  I care  nothing  whether  he  secs  me  or  not;  I 
told  you  I should  come  with  you,  and  Eve  come. 

Grant.  What  folly  ! For  what  purpose  ? 

AVyatt.  {jvifliout)  Very  well,  Mrs.  Jenkins,  Til  be  th^'ve 
in  a minute. 

Ida.  ’Twas  worth  coming,  if  but  to  hear  his  chccri'Ui 
voice  again. 

Grant.  Ida,  you  annoy  me  very  much,  you  do  indeed. 
You  are  not  like  Lotty. 

Id.^.  No,  indeed,  papa.  Had  I been  Lotty,  I would 
have  married  Jack  in  spite  of  you. 

Grant.  I would  have  cast  you  off.  I would  have 
driven  you  from  my  door. 

Ida.  I should  liave  been  proud  to  be  cast  off  for  such 
a man.  Poor  Lotty  lacks  spirit.  Jack  is  worth  fifty  of 
the  noodles  we  meet  now. 


40 


TWO  ROSES. 


Grant.  Why,  what  folly  is  this  ? Have  you  not  every- 
thing ! — money,  jewels,  servants,  carriages,  horses  ? 

Ida.  I was  happier  playing  chess  with  Caleb,  and 
walking  about  the  green  lanes  with  Jack. 

Grant.  Happier  ! Great  Heaven  ! with  a poor  blind 
man  and  a knave  of  a scribbler. 

(the  room  grows  a little  da^'ker') 

Ida.  (starts  up  indignant)  Papa,  don’t  say  that  again!  no 
ill  word  oi  Jack.  I said  just  now  I’d  leave  your  house 
for  him  ; that’s  not  true  ; I could  not  give  up  what  I have, 
I could  not  bear  to  be  looked  down  on,  nor  would  I see 
Lotty  marry  him,  for  I know  she  would  only  have  a life 
of  miserable  regret.  I’m  proud  as  you. 

Grant.  My  dear,  that  is  the  best  part  of  you — I — 
I — admire  your  pride;  but  why  have  you  come 
here  ? 

Ida.  Because  I cannot  trust  you,  papa.  I would  not 
have  you  see  him  alone.  I know  you  do  not  always 
speak  the  truth. 

Grant.  Ida,  how  dare  you  ! how  dare  you  ! (grandly) 
how  dare  you  ! (by  this  the  room  is  a little  darker) 

Wyatt,  (without)  Will  you  kindly  open  the  door  ? 
(door  opens)  Thank  you.  (Wyatt  enters  imth  lamp  in 
hand^  zoliich  he  places  on  table^  and  in  doing  so  says — ) 
Sorry  to  keep  you,  Mr.  Chippering.  (then  looking  up) 
Grant ! (during  this  Ida  has  gone  to  seat  at  back  oj  table ^ 
and  the  fire  screen  almost  hides  her.  Grant  bonus  stiffly) 
To  what  strange  cause  am  I indebted  for  the  honour  of 
this  visit  ? 

Grant.  I am  glad  you  feel  that  it  is  an  honour.  The 
high  esteem  in  which  the  governing  class  is  held  by  the 
working  population  is  the  safeguard  of  British  freedom. 

I am  glad  you  esteem  it  an  honour. 

Wyatt.  Shall  you  be  long,  because  my  mother  is 
waiting. 

Grant.  The  word  mother  touches  a chord  that 
vibrates  in  every  noble  bosom.  England  owes  much  to 
her  mothers. 

Wyatt.  Much,  About  twenty  millions,  I think.  Let 


TWO  ROSES. 


41 


me  offer  you  a chair.  There  was  a time  when  you  made 
me  very  welcome. 

He  places  chair  a7id  then  C7vsses  so  that  his  hack  is 
titrned  to  the  spot  where  Lotty  is  concealed^  arid 
Grant  faces  it 

Ida. 

Grant,  Wyatt.  Lotty 

Grant.  I did.  I have  held  out  my  hand  to  the 
lowliest.  I held  out  my  hand  to  you. 

Wyatt,  {softly)  You  did,  and  I put  money  into  it. 

Grant,  (itot  noticing  But  we  will  not  refer  to  that. 
You  asked  to  what  strange  cause  you  were  indebted  for 
this  visit ; I wish  I could  call  it  strange,  but  I cannot, 
for  human  nature  is  ever  selfish. 

Wyatt.  You  of  course  know  your  motives. 

Grant.  I refer,  sir,  to  yours;  you  were — I do  not  wish 
you  to  stand,  Mr.  Wyatt. 

Wyatt,  {smiling  Thank  you,  I prefer  it. 

Grant.  You  were,  I was  about  to  remark,  at  one  time, 
in  some  sort  of  way,  to  some  extent,  engaged  to  my 
daughter  Charlotte.  (Wyatt  bows  assent)  Now,  I thought 
the  last  time  I had  the  pleasure  ot  seeing  you,  that  it 
was  fully  understood  that  our  connection  was  completely 
at  an  end.  (Wyatt  botus)  But  it  is  with  grief  I find  that 
— (Wyatt  here  tooks  anxious) — that — that  you  have 
presumed  on  that  past  fancied  affection,  and  ar3  still 
trying  to  work  on  the  gentle  nature  of  my  child. 

Wyatt.  I must  trouble  you  to  be  a little  cleaier. 

Grant.  I forbade  all  correspondence  of  any  kind 
between  you ; you  have  disobeyed  my  commands ; you 
have  eluded  my  vigilance ; you  have  written  to  her. 

Wyatt,  {tboughtfulty)  Written  ? 

Grant.  Do  not  imagine  such  letters  would  have  any 
effect ; but  I will  not  suffer  her  peace  and  happiness  to 
be  disturbed — by  your  appealing  to  her  tender  nature, 
speaking  of  old  and  now,  thank  heaven,  forgotten  love — 
and  begging  her  to  see  you  again.  It  is  unmanly,  sir. 
I am  glad  to  see  by  your  silence  that  you  are  ashamed. 


42 


TWO  ROSES, 


Wyatt.  No,  but  I am  a little  puzzled.  Have  you  seea 
this  letter  ? 

Grant.  I have  it  with  me. 

Wyatt.  May  I be  permitted  ? 

Grant.  I came  to  return  it.  {hands  it) 

Wyatt,  {pleased^  but  coolly)  And  you  say  Lotty  has 
given  up  all  thought  of  me  ? 

Grant.  Miss  Charlotte  is  quite  conscious  of  her 
girlish  mistake.  But  a letter  of  that  kind  naturally 
affects  her — she  pities  you. 

Wyatt.  And  you  took  this  from  her  a few  days  back  > 

Grant.  She  handed  it  to  me  yesterday. 

Wyatt.  Bless  her  ! It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  bring 
me  this.  It  is  a direct  denial  to  all  you’ve  said.  It  is 
certain  proof  that  Lotty  has  not  forgotten  me,  and. 
wealth  hasn’t  spoiled  her. 

Grant,  {hcilf  fearjul)  What  folly  is  this  ? 

{moves  uneasily  in  chair) 

WWatt.  You  have  made  a slight  mistake.  This  is  the 
letter  I wrote  to  Lotty  the  last  day  we  met,  the  day  we 
parted;  she  has  treasured  it  up,  and  you  have  unwittingly 
become  love’s  messenger.  What  heedless  haste  v/as 
yours  ! "Why,  far  from  writing,  I did  not — do  not  know 
where  you  live. 

Grant.  I see.  {rises)  I’ve  made  a mistake.  1 — I am 
sorry  I troubled  you.  {goin^ 

Wyatt.  One  minute.  You  have  settled  your  business; 
I have  a word  to  sa)a  On  the  night  we  parted,  you  said 
you  asked  a loan  of  me  to  test  me — that  was  false. 

Grant.  Sir  1 

Wyatt.  Be  patient,  I’ve  not  done.  You  said  I should 
have  been  repaid  in  thousands — that  was  false.  You  had 
suddenly  become  possessed  of  money,  and  were  glad  to 
get  rid  of  old  debts.  ; 

Grant.  No  more  of  this — I paid  you,  sir — I paid 
you.  {gomg)  You  took  my  cheque,  {pttls  on  Ins  hat) 

Wyatt.  But  I did  not  take  your  money.  Here  is 
your  cheque — I kept  it,  and  will  keep  it  as  a memorial. 
There  is  your  own  character — “Proud,  boastful,  mean 
and  ungrateful,”  and  your  own  name  signed  to  it 


TWO  ROSES. 


45 


Grant.  Recall  your  words,  you — you — How  dare  you 
{cooler)  how  dare  you — {grandly)  How  dare  you^  sir  5' 
{here  Lotty  in  terror  steps  from  curtain^  hut  only  a 
little) 

Wyatt.  Dare  ! I dare  nothing  in  speaking  thus  to 
you.  Courage  only  dares  in  meeting  courage.  I would 
have  said  what  I now  say  on  that  day,  but  your  daughters 
were  present,  and  for  their  sake  I spared  you.  I would 
not  have  them  know  what  a poor  false  knave  their 
father  was. 

Grant.  Hold  your  tongue,  sir — you — you — you — * 
lie — lie 

Wyatt.  What ! I never  told  a falsehood  in  my  life  ; 
beg  my  pardon,  or 

Grant,  {goings  r.)  What,  beg  your  pardon  ! folly — 
folly ! 

Wyatt.  Beg  my  pardon,  or 

Grant,  {excitedly)  Absurd  ! you’re  a low  fellow. 

Wyatt.  There ! 


He  is  going  to  strike  when  IuOtty  steps  !jr~ 

ward  to  arrest  hts  arm^  and  Grant,  seeing  her^ 
starts  hacky  holding  up  his  arm. 


Ida, 

Grant. 


Lotty. 

Wyatt. 


Grant,  (with  his  eyes  fixed  on  Lotty)  Stay.  I beg 
your  pardon,  {boiving  and  taking  off  hat) 

Tableau. 


You  say  you  have  never  written  to  my  daughter? 

Wyatt.  Never  since  that  day. 

Grant.  And  never  met  her  ? 

Wyatt.  Never. 

Grant.  And  she  has  not  been  here  ? 

Wyatt.  I have  no  lady  visitors. 

Grant.  None?  {he  tvipes  his  eyes  as  ij  in  pairt) 

Wyatt.  None.  Stay — a lady,  who  for  some  reason- 
esteeming  me  does  call,  but  I have  never  seen  her. 


44 


TWO  ROSES. 


Grant.  Well  I am  sorry  we  had  high  words,  {offers  his 
hand^  and  as  he  does  so  again  wipes  his  eye  as  if  in  paiii) 
Wyatt,  {takes  his  hand)  What’s  the  matter  ? 

Grant.  A bit  of  dirt,  I think.  I felt  a twinge  when 
you  raised  your  hand,  {crosses  r.c.,  shakes  handkerchief) 
Wyatt.  Allow  me — perhaps  I may  see  it.  {takes  lamp 
ana  looks  intently  at  his  face) 

Grani'.  I must  be  quick — be  quick — my  brougham  is 
at  the  corner  of  the  street. 

Lotty  takes  the  hint  and  is  stealing  off  when  the  door 
to  stairs  opens — she  stops.  Grant  starts. 

Wyatt.  Is  it  so  bad  ? 


Enter  Caleb,  d.r.u.e.  down  c.l. 


Grant,  {relieved)  Thank  heaven  he’s  blind. 

(Lotty  steals  off;  Caleb  listens 

Wyatt,  Gone? 

Grant,  {himself  again)  Yes — gone  ! 

Caleb.  You’ve  friends,  Jack  ? {comes  tip  and  sits  on) 
edge  of  table) 

Wyatt.  Only  Mr.  Grant,  {putting  down  the  lamp) 

Caleb.  But  the  lady  ? 

Wyatt,  {inquiringly  of  shrugs 

his  shoulders)  You’re  mistaken. 

Caleb,  {quietly  shaking  his  head)  No,  I’m  not.  I 
know  the  step. 

Ida.  {steps  forward)  Yes,  Caleb,  it  was  I ! {dozvn  l.  cj 
Caleb) 

Caleb.  Ah,  Ida  ! 


Caleb. 


Wyatt. 


Ida. 


Grant. 


Caleb.  But  it  wasn’t  you,  Ida,  it  was  a softer  step 
‘than  yours,  ’twas 

Wyatt.  Not  Lotty  ! {is  moving  towards  door) 

Caleb  crosses  quickly  to  window  at  back.,  l.,  and  opens  it 
and  turns  his  p.ar  to  the  street 


TWO  ROSES. 


45 


Caleb.  Ah,  I think  I can  hear  the  step. 

Wyatt.  Is  it  she,  Caleb  ? 

Ida  sits  at  harmoniuin  and  plays  a soft  air^  same  as 
in  Act  Z Caleb  closes  the  window  and  fastens 
it^  and  comes  forivard. 

Caleb,  {aside  to  Ida)  I understand, 

Wyatt.  Was  it  Lotty  ? 

Caleb.  I couldn’t  hear. 


Tableau. 


Wyatt. 

Grant. 


Caleb. 


IdAi 


Act  Drop  slow. 

End  of  Act  IL 


46 


TWO  ROSES. 


ACT  III. 

Garden  at  Grant’s  (to  plan).  At  k.  house^  with  piano 
'Seen  through  windoiv.  c.  fountain  (practical).,  with  gold 
fish.  Across  the  stage  from  back  to  front.,  garlands  or 
bunting  decorated  imth  flowers.,  shewing  the  7uord 

Welcome,  but  reversed  to  audience.  Garden  table  at  l. 
loith  large  tree  and  t'wo  chairs. 


.Pour  bars  oi  valse  music — under  stage  before  drop  ascends 
— continued  till  Footman  is  off. 

-As  the  curtain  rises.,  Lotty  and  Ida  are  looking  at  the 
fish,  and  Lotty  has  her  fore-finger  dipped  in  the  7uater. 
The  tiuo  girls  are  dressed  exactly  alike,  in  pretty  7ualking 
summer  dresses.  Lotty  is  paler  than  in  Aet  L 
Grant  is  asleep  in  garden  ehair,  7uith  a silk  handker- 
chief over  his  head  ; he  luears  one  boot  and  one  slipper. 
On  table  is  seltzer  zaater  glass.  A splendid  Foot.man 
> enters  from  i e.r.  with  bottle  of  seltzer  and  glass  with 
brandy. 


TWO  ROSES. 


47 


Ida.  Don’t  disturb  papa. 

Foot:man  puis  down  things  and  retires. 

Dotty.  Arn’t  they  beauties?  they  look  as  if  they  fed  on 
sunlight,  and  it  shone  through  ’em. 

Ida.  Perhaps  they’re  fish  from  the  river  where  Midas 
bathed. 

Dotty.  Or  perhaps  they  are  some  water  fairies’  money 
■ — her  floating  capital. 

Ida.  Yes,  and  that  one  that’s  half  silver  has  been 
changed. 

Dotty.  Yes,  and  there’s  one  with  some  brown  spots — 
they’re  copper. 

Ida.  Gold,  silver,  and  copper ; we’ll  call  that  little 
fellow  s.  d.  Shall  we  ? 

Dotty.  Yes ; you  may  depend  upon  it  they’re  water 
fairies’  money,  and  they  play  cards  for  them  (suddenly) 
-as  we  do  for  fish.  (Grant  wakes  up  and  listens^  smiling) 

Dotty,  (in  glee)  Oh,  Ida,  see  ! Jack’s  come  to  my) 
fi  nger. 

Grant,  (crossly)  Dotty  ! 

Dotty.  Oh,  now,  papa,  you’ve  frightened  Jack  away. 

Grant.  Dotty,  you  annoy  me,  you  annoy  me,  with 
this  folly  of  calling  everything  Jack.  I gave  you  a little 
dog,  and  you  called  it  Jack.  I gave  you  a parrot,  and 
I’m  sure  I thought  their  family  name  was  Polly,  and  you 
called  that  Jack.  I bought  you  a saddle-horse,  and  took 
the  precaution  to  buy  a mare,  and  hang  me  if  you  didn’t 
call  her  Jack  too,  and  now  you’re  crowning  the  absurdity 
by  calling  a gold  fish  Jack.  (Dotty  begins  to  cry) 

Ida.  (goes  to  Grant)  Papa,  you’ll  have  Dotty  ill  again, 
and  she's  only  just  getting  better ; we  shall  lose  her  if 
you  don’t  mind. 

Grant.'  Ida,  you  annoy  me,  you  annoy  me  very  much. 
(looking  on  table)  I have  always  been  an  indulgent  parent, 
you  have  had  everything  that  affection  and  wealth  could 
bestow,  and — that  stupid  fellow  has  not  left  a corkscrew. 

Dotty.  Ida,  I’ve  got  J (stops  sorrowjully) 

(Ida  and  Grant’s  eyes  ?neet) 


48 


TWO  ROSES. 


Grant.  Ida,  v^hat  do  you  mean  by  looking  at  me 
that  way? 

Ida.  {sits  dow7i  resolutely,  and  as  she  speaks  she  takes 
the  seltzer  bottle  by  the  neclz)  Papa,  you  have  not  kept 
your  word,  {she  raises  the  bottle  about  an  inch,  and  brings 
it  again  on  the  table) 

Grant.  Ida,  it  is  with  great  difficulty  I can  bottle  up 
my  feelings,  and 

Ida.  {raising  the  bottle  agahi)  Papa. 

{quadrille  music  heard  as  ij  in  grounds) 

Grant.  And — you’ll  have  the  cork  fly  out.  {takes  the 
bottle  from  her) 

Ida.  {she  rests  her  elbows  on  table,  and  leans  her  chin 
071  her  hands,  looking  hun  calmly  in  the  face)  Papa,  did 
you  not  promise 

E7iter  from  i e.  r.,  two  Footmen  with  large 
butler'’ s ti'ays ; one  has  a heap  of  buns  covered  with 
a white  cloth,  the  other  is  full  of  white  7nugs, 

Grant.  Ida.  {glancing  at  theiii) 

Ida.  {sitting  back  in  an  easy  way)  What  are  those, 
Thomas — the  buns  for  the  children  ? {the  other  goes  off  ) 

Footman.  Yes,  miss.  Biggs  has  the  mugs  ; the  milk’s 
in  the  tent. 

Ida.  Vl\  be  there  soon,  {exit  Footman.  She  resumes^ 
her  attitude)  And  now,  papa,  I say  you  promised  the 
doctor  you  would  send  for  Mr.  Wyatt. 

Grant.  Ida,  I — I am  busy.  (Ida  looks  at  the  table, 
then  at  him)  Ida,  I will  not,  I will  not  be  looked  at  by 
you  in  this  way  ; I represent  an  ancient  family.  Wherever 
I go,  I am  respected.  The  rector  gets  from  his  gig  to 
shake  hands  with  me,  the  tradespeople  take  off  their 
hats  to  me,  the  children  cheer  me.  In  the  House  of 
Commons,  which  is  the  noblest  legislative  assembly  in  the 
world,  I am  listened  to  generally,  with  — with  considerable 
attention — on  Wednesdays ; and  yet  I am  bearded  by 
my  own  child — the  first  offering  of  love  that  your  dear 
mother  placed  in  my  hands,  (really  a little  affteted)  I 
can  see  your  dumb  baby  lips  now,  and  little  I thought 


TWO  ROSES.  49 

they  would  one  day  utter  ungrateful  taunts ; it^s  very 
painful,  it’s  very  painful  indeed. 

Ida.  (taking  her  handkerchief  and  bury  mg  her  face  in 
it)  Yes,  and  it’s  very  painful  to  me. 

Lotty.  (coming  down)  Oh,  papa,  what  have  you  done 
to  Ida? 

Grant.  What  have  I done  ? Really  this  is — (in  a 
sudden  tone)  Lotty,  my  child,  give  me  a flower  for  my 
coat,  (the  Footmen  recross) 

Ida.  (with  perfect  composure)  Has  the  person  come  to 
tune  the  piano,  Thomas  ? 

Footman.  Yes,  miss,  a blind  person.  (Ida  stands  a 
little)  He’s  tuning  the  one  in  the  back  drawing-room, 
he’ll  do  the  front  next,  (pointing  to  house) 

(exit.  The  other  Footman  has  g07ie  off^ 

Lotty.  (coniing  with  flower)  There,  papa,  are  two 
roses,  (as  she  is  going  to  put  them  in  his  butto7i  hole  he 
takes  them  of  her) 

Grant.  Here  again,  now. 

Ida.  Lotty,  dear,  go  and  see  that  the  croquet-ground’s 
all  right.  I’m  coming  to  play,  (leaning  over  back  of  chair ^ 
so  that  her  face  is  in  a Ime  with  his) 

Lotty.  Don’t  tease  her,  papa,  (kisses  her  aiid  rmts  away) 

Grant.  Here  again,  everything  to  annoy  me ; when 
we  left  our  temporary  abode  in  Kent,  you  must  bring 
with  you  the  two  rose  trees  that  those  young  men  planted. 
(he  is  going  to  throw  70ses  away) 

Ida.  (taking  tJmn  and  laying  them  on  table)  I’m  deter- 
mined, papa,  to  speak  out. 

Grant.  Very  well ; heaven  knows  I do  not  deserve 
this  treatment  but  I will  try  and  bear  it 

Ida.  You  promised  the  doctor  you  would  send  for 
Mr.  Wyatt ; and  full  of  that  hope,  Lotty  has  grown 
better.  Dr.  Coram  keeps  telling  her  you  are  only  waiting 
a favourable  opportunity ; but  if  she  learns  that  you  do 
not  mean  to  keep  your  word  she  will  fall  ill  again,  and 
die^  papa. 

Grant,  (really  afected^  but  too  selfish  to  see  his  fault) 
Ida,  this  is  heartrending.  Do  you  think  that  I am  stone: 
that  I can  bear  this  ? 


TWO  ROSES. 


SO 

Ida.  Will  you  send  for  him  then  ? 

Grant.  How  can  I ? — how  can  I ? Here  is  Mr. 
Jenkins;  join  your  sister,  {rises  to  go  aivay  from  her)  Ah, 
my  worthy  friend.  {offers  two  fingers  as  enter  Jenkins 
I E.R.  Ida  sighs  and  goes  off^  2 e.l.  He  is  no7v  dressed  in 
blacky  and  white  tie ; he  looks  remarkably  well^  and  his 
manner  ofi  the  whole  perhaps  wiproved ; there  is  not 
the  slightest  sign  of  cant  or  humbtig  about  him,  but  he 
appears  thoroughly  cheerful  and  sincere)  I was  wishing  to 
see  you;’ though  we  differ  in  our  religious  persuasions  and 
in  politics,  as  indeed  is  natural  from  the  difference  in  our 
position,  still,  in  matters  of  benevolence  we  meet  on 
common  ground.  I approve  of  you,  I approve  of  you 
very  much. 

Jenk.  Yes,  we  both  push  the  same  article.  I mean 
we  both  labour  in  the  same  vineyard. 

Grant.  Truly — and  the  piece  of  plate. 

Jenk.  Piece — it’s  several  pieces  now ; Pve  a surprise 
for  you.  {takes  out  a paper) 

Grant,  {aside)  So  they  got  my  notes. 

Jenk.  Here’s  the  list,  {reads)  Subscriptions  for  the 
purchase  of  a piece  of  plate,  to  be  presented  to  Digby 
Grant  de  Chaperon,  Esquire,  by  his  numerous  friends  and 
admirers,  as  a mark  of  their  high  esteem  for  his  many  acts 
of  benevolence  and  wisdom.  Pence  from  the  children  of 
the  Surfton  Schools,  3s.  gjd. ; master,  is.  6d.;  mistress, 
IS.  Balance  of  proceeds  of  an  amateur  performance,  under 
the  patronage  of  Lieut.-Colonel  Barclay  Grains,  of  the 
I St  Vassalgate  Volunteer  Artillery,  2s.  10.  Mrs. 
Jenkins  says  the  money  ought  to  be  thrown  into  the  pit 
of  Tophet.  Collected  by  Mrs.  Pressidot,  7s. ; by 
Mrs.  Wainwright,  4s.  Now  listen.  Received  by 
Messrs.  Pitcher  and  Potts,  notes  to  the  amount  of  y[ff>o, 
from  a great  admirer  of  Mr.  de  Chaperon.  Now  who 
could  that  be  ? 

Grant.  Can’t  guess — can  you  ? 

Jenk.  Yes;  but  not  satisfactorily. 

Grant.  Very  surprising. 

Jenk.  I mean  to  say  it’s  dam — no,  I donP  mean  that. 

Grant.  Do  Messrs.  Pitcher  and  Potts  know  ? 

Jenk.  I think  they  do,  for  Pitcher  nudged  Potts,  and 


TWO  ROSES. 


SI 

Potts  nudged  Pitcher,  and  the  firm  with  one  voice  said 
they  believed  there  was  not  another  living  creature  who 
had  one  quarter  so  high  an  opinion  of  you  as  the  person 
who  sent  those  notes. 

Grant,  {aside)  Damn  their  impudence  ! {rises)  I will 
just  go  down  to  the  people,  they  expect  me. 

{Exit^  3 E.L.) 

Jenk.  And  I will  go  over  my  speech,  {takes  out  paper  ; 
repeats)  “ When  it  is  the  good  fortune  of  a community 

to  have  among  them  a shining  light ” 

(Wyatt  coines  to  open  windoiv^  jroni  inside^ 

Wyatt.  Ah,  pretty  enough,  but  prim.  Nature  in  stays 
and  high  heel’d  boots.  Nature  with  a Grecian  bend. 
Mother  Nature  made  a girl  of  the  period^  nothing  but  the 
old  trees  left  as  Adam  saw  them. 

Jenk.  Surely  I {lookmg  up) 

Caleb,  {peeps from  windoui)  Having  a growl.  Jack? 
Capital  place  for  a growl.  Noticed  the  hall  was 
marble,  the  chair  I touched  was  gilt,  the  carpet  velvet 
pile,  to  be  soft  beneath  the  feet  of  hereditary  indolence. 
There’s  a chance  for  you — splendid  place  for  a growl — 
old  democrat,  {goes  in) 

Wyatt.  Aristocrat,  begone  ! 

Jenk.  The  old  style.  I never  could  tell  whether  they 
were  serious. 

Wyatt,  {looking  up)  Welcome  !”  ah  ! {the  word 
WELCOME  is  written  on  a cloth^  facing  wings)  But 
welcome  has  turned  her  back  on  me,  as  I think  she  did 
when  I was  born.  A school  children’s  feast.  Charity  ! 
Children  badged  and  ticketed  like  beasts  at  a cattle 
show,  clothed  by  my  Lord  Pharisee  ! {seeing  Jenkins) 
Hallo  ! why,  Caleb,  here’s  Our  Mr.  Jenkins. 

Jenk.  {suddefily  rising  and  holding  up  his  hand)  How 
are  you  ? {to  Caleb)  How  do  you  do  ? 

Caleb.  Very  well ; we  were  expecting  an  invitation 
from  you. 

Jenk.  Yes,  I was  going  to  send.  But  you  know, 
birds  of  a feather — and  when  a cockatoo,  as  I may  say, 
becomes  a rook,  he’s  a little  shy  of  his  feathers  at  first. 

Caleb,  (l.)  I’d  like  to  meet  a jolly  cockatoo  now  and 
then  in  any  feathers.  Do  you  live  near? 


52 


TWO  ROSES. 


Jenk.  (c.)  I live  over  yonder,  {points  off,  2 e.l.)  irr 
Surfton.  Mrs.  Jenkins  followed  our  shepherd. 

Caleb,  (l.)  O,  got  a farm,  then  ? 

Jenk.  Farm  ! The  shepherd’s  the  gentleman  she  used 
to  sit  under. 

Caleb.  Sit  under  1 

Jenk.  Yes — don’t  you  understand? 

Caleb,  (l.)  Not  exactly,  but  I see  the  advantage  of 
her  sitting  under  the  shepherd  ; if  the  shepherd  had  to- 
sit  under  Mrs.  Jenkins,  I should  pity  the  shepherd. 

Jenk.  (c.)  Well,  then,  he  had  a call  from  Surfton  ? 

Caleb,  (l.)  Did  he  hear  all  the  way  to  London. 

Jenk.  Yes,  they  offered  him  an  extra  hundred  a-year. 

Wyatt.  Ah,  that  was  speaking  up.  (at  the  fou7itai7iy 
looking  at  fish) 

Jenk.  And  we  followed  him  ; we  had  enough  to  retire 
on,  so  I gave  up  the  road,  and  the  shepherd  he  talked  to 
me  as  I’ve  never  heard  anybody  talk,  and  Mrs.  Jenkins 
talked  to  me 

Caleb.  As  I never  heard  anyone  talk. 

Jenk.  And  at  last  they  persuaded  me  to  put  off  the 
old  man 

Caleb.  Had  you  an  appointment  with  him  ? 

Jenk.  Pooh — you  know  what  I mean.  I have 
escaped  from  the  pit  of  Tophet.  They  have  made  a 
shining  light  of  me. 

Wyatt.  A dark  lantern  1 

Jenk.  Fm  an  elder. 

Wyatt.  A cypress,  Jenkins,  a cypress* 

Caleb.  D’ye  like  it  ? 

Jenk.  Yes,  now  I am  used  to  it.  {m  co7ifLde7ice)  It’s 
not  so  slow  as  you  think.  The  shepherd’s  a rare  fellow 
for  a joke.  He  said  the  other  night  at  the  mutual 
comfort  meeting,  that  I used  to  travel  in  the  ways  of  sin, 
and  now  I walk  in  the  paths  of  virtue.  You  should 
have  seen  ’em  laugh,  but  then  they  always  laugh  at  the 
shepherd’s  jokes.  Join  us.  I’ll  get  you  in  trade  price. 
No — I mean,  Fll  introduce  you. 

Wyatt.  Thank’ee.  And  how  is  the  silver  grey  mare  ? 

Jenk.  Oh,  she’s  pretty  well ; she’s  below  there  in  the 
tents  of  the  wicked — no — no — I mean  in  the  tents  with 


TWO  ROSES.  53 

the  children,  (croquet  sounds^  By-the-bye,  who  called 
you  to  the  feast  ? 

Caleb.  Jack  brought  me  to  tune  the  piano. 

' {shows  key,  and  exits  into  window) 

Jenk.  Then  don’t  you  know  who  De  Chaperon  is? 
Wyatt,  {conies  doiun)  Well  the  fair  inference  is  that  De 
Chaperon  is  De  Chaperon. 

Jenk.  And  you  came  here  by  accident? 

Wyatt.  Quite. 

Jenk.  I think  you’d  better  go  away. 

Wyatt.  Go  1 Why  ? {croquet  sounds) 

Jenk.  For  fear  De  Chaperon  should  see  you. 

Ida.  (without)  O Lotty,  you  silly  girl ! Bella,  croquet 
her. 

Caleb  conies  quickly  to  window  with  tuning-key  in  his 
hand,  and  Wyatt  starts. 

Wyatt.  Why {looks  inquiringly  at  Jenkins) 

Jenk.  {aside)  There’ll  be  a shine  in  the  tents  of  Shem. 

Enter  Grant,  l.  2 e. 

Grant.  Jenkins,  I like  the  plate  very  well,  though  I 
think  the  words  “ benevolent  acts  ” might  have  been 
more  clearly — {sees  Wyatt  and  starts)  You  here ! 
This  is  unmanly ! 

Wyatt.  Mr.  Grant ! 

Grant.  My  name  is  De  Chaperon. 

Wyatt,  {bowing  De  Chaperon,  I care  not  in  what 
•estimation  you  hold  me,  but  I feel  in  being  here  I owe 
you  an  explanation. 

Grant.  I want  no  explanation.  Go,  sir,  go  ! before 
I am  obliged  to  order  my  servants  to  remove  you. 

Mrs.  J.  {outside)  Edward,  dearest. 

Jenk.  My  love. 

Wyatt,  {to  Grant)  A word  with  you  presently. 

Grant  recovers  his  bland  manner,  and  looks  as 
though  nothing  had  occurred,  Ci'osses  l.  up  l. 
Ente?  Mrs.  Jenkins  (l.  2.  e.  crosses  over  to  r.)  in 
he?  silver  grey ; in  other  matters  plainly  hut  well 
dressed ; she  carries  a large  blue  ticket. 


54 


TWO  ROSES. 


Mrs.  J.  Edward,  they  want  me  to  go  into  the  milk 
and  bun  tent,  and  I know  you  told  me  my  ticket  was  ifor 
tea  and  cake  with  the  ladies.  Oh,  dear  me,  Mr 
de  Chappering  and  Mr.  Wyatt  too ! Well,  this  is  a 
pleasure. 

Grant.  Mr.  Jenkins,  will  you  ? {goes  towards  windo^d) 

LoTTY.  {off^  L.)  Now,  Bela,  it’s  your  turn. 

(7ioise  of  inallets  striking  hall  offy  l.) 

Mrs.  J.  {looking  off^  l.  2 e.)  Well  now,  dear  me,  if 
there  ain’t  a lot  of  young  ladies  with  hammers,  playing 
at  blacksmiths,  I suppose. 

LoTTY.  {outside^  Oh,  dear — he’ll  croquet  me. 

Grant  looks  uneasy^  moves  towards  l.  2 e.  croquet  bale 
C077ies  on.  Grant  stops  it  a7id  picks  it  up.  Lotty  runs 
on  with  77iallet. 

Lotty.  Oh,  papa,  how  naughty  of  you  ! {gomg  to  strike- 
hbn  in  fun  ; seemg people).  Oh,  dear  1 (Wyatt  turns  his 
back) 

Grant.  My  dear  child,  play  farther  off ! {goes  off  to  fh 
wmdow) 

Lotty.  Yes,  papa,  but  I must  speak  to  the  shining 
light.  How  do  you  do?  I mean,  how  do  you  shine  ? 

Jenk.  Well,  not  brilliantly  yet,  but  with  the  mild 
effulgence  of  a glowworm. 

Mrs.  j.  We  are  all  worms. 

Jenk.  But  we  don’t  all  glow. 

Lotty.  Why,  I declare  that’s O,  dear  me  ! 

Jenk.  Miss  Charlotte  de  Chaperon — Mrs.  Jenkins — • 
My  dear  Miss  de  Chaperon.  (Mrs.  Jenkins  and  Lotty 
boiv  as  if  they  7i7ider stood  one  another) 

Jenk.  And  how  are  the  gold  fish?  {crosses  to  l.  of 
fountain)  How’s  Jack  ? 

I.OTTY.  {puts  her  finger  to  her  lips)  I mustn’t  call  him 
Jack  {whispering)  but  he’ll  come  and  nibble  my  finger, 
{she  and  Jenkins  go  to  fou7itain.  Wyatt  is  lea7iing 
agamst  it  with  his  back  timied.  She  whispei’s)  Who’s  that 
rude  person  ? 

Jenk.  That— a — e — I don’t  know, 
i Lotty.  Perhaps  he  knows  which  is  the  best  bjoking; 


TWO  ROSES. 


55 


side  of  him.  (^pufs  he)'  finger  in  i.vater)  Now,  you  see 
him’;  come  (softly)^  Jack.  (Wyatt  turns  round  quickly^ 
Oh  ! {falls  in  Jenkins’  arms.  All  turn) 

Tableau, 

Wyatt.  Lotty. 

Mrs.  Jenkins.  Jenkins. 

Lotty.  Oh,  Jack  ! then  papa  did  send  for  you ; but 
wait  a moment,  I must  go  and  tell  Ida.  O,  I feel  so  giddy 
Will  you  come  with  me  ? 

Jenk.  Yes,  my  dear,  I 

Lotty.  And,  oh,  I am  so  happy,  {to  Wyatt)  Don’t 
you  move — come  along,  {fjits  head  of  mallet  behmd  his 
neck  and  handle  over  his  shoulder)  Yes,”  said  the  rook, 
with  a sanctified  look,  “ I’ll  come  with  you.” 

(/7//A  Jenkins  l.2  e.) 

Mrs.  J.  Edward,  dear,  do  get  my  ticket  changed,  I 
can’t  eat  buns,  {follov's  them^  L.2) 

Grant,  {re-enters  f7^om  house)  And  now,  sir,  without 
more  words 

Wyatt.  The  fewer  the  better.  I see  you  have  told 
that  poor  child  you  were  going  to  send  for  me.  Be  care- 
ful how  you  play  with  her  young  life,  or  one  day  we  may 
stand  over  the  same  grave. 

Grant.  Go,  sir,  go — do  not  harrow  a father’s  feelings. 
I forgive  you,  go.  {crosses  toui,  Wyatt  turns  to  go  off 
at  i.e.r) 

Enter  Furnival. 

Fur.  {taking  hwi  by  the  hand)  Dear  me,  this  is 
unexpected  ; very  glad  to  see  you,  though — hope  you’re 
not  going  away. 

Wyatt.  Yes. 

Grant.  I have  requested  that  person  to  leave  my 
grounds. 

Fur.  I’d  ask  him  to  stay  now— take  my  advice  as  a 
professional  man.  Don’t  go,  Mr.  Wyatt. 

Grant.  Mr.  Furnival,  I do  not  choose  to  be  interfered 
with. 

Fur.  No,  of  course  not,  you  don’t  choose  it — we  don’t 
choose  gout,  many  things  we  don’t  choose,  but  they 


56 


TWO  ROSES. 


come.  Mr.  de  Chaperon  would  like  to  see  you  presently, 
Mr.  Wyatt,  I feel  sure. 

Grant.  I cannot  comprehend. 

Fur.  I have  often  noticed  it — dear  me  that’s  a slip. 
Have  I your  leave  ? Mr.  Wyatt,  will  you  kindly  wait 
within  to  see  me — to  see  me^  you  know. 

Wyatt.  That’s  very  different.  {Exit  to  house) 

Fur.  And  now  I think  I’ll  sit  down.  How’s  the  gout  ? 

( they  go  and  sit) 

Grant.  It  is  very  bad — but  it  has  been  in  our  family  a 
long  time. 

- Fur.  Dear  me ! — I know  several  families  in  which  there 
has  been  something  bad  for  a long  time.  But  what  have 
you  there  ? 

Grant.  Brandy,  but  the  silly  fellow  has  not  left  me  a 
corkscrew  for  the  seltzer. 

Fur.  Better  without.  I’d  drink  it  if  I were  you.  I’ve 
got  some  very  nice  cigars  ; I think  I will  indulge — nice 
green  curtains  over  head — smoke  won’t  hurt  ’em — you’d 
better  drink  that.  (Grant  does  so)  Try  these.  (Grant 
smokes)  It’s  about  a year  ago  since  I came  and  informed 
you  that  you  were  heir  to  ten  thousand  a year. 

Grant.  I remember  that  pleasant  occasion. 

Fur.  I told  you  that  there  was  but  one  person  between 
you  and  that  estate,  and  that  person  could  not  be  found. 

Grant.  You  did. 

Fur.  Well — let’s  see.  Oh,  yes,  you’ve  had  the  brandy 
— well,  he  is  found. 

Grant.  Great  Heavens ! {puts  down  cigar  and  falls 

back) 

Caleb,  {inside)  Oh,  ]\if iter  \ (iiot  aloud) 

Furnival  looks  towards  'ivindow,  Caleb  drums  a little 
at  one  note. 

Fur.  Ah,  you  bear  it  very  well. 

Grant.  My  dear  sir,  does  any  one  know  of  this 
Besides  you  ? 

Fur.  Well,  not  completely. 

Grant.  Then  why  let  any  one  know  ? 

Fur.  {rises)  Mr.  Grant,  you  have  mistaken  your  man. 
You  are 


TWO  ROSES. 


57 


Caleb  runs  fingers  over  notes.  They  look  round. 

Grant.  It  is  only  a fellow  tuning.  You  do  not 
‘Understand  me. 

Fur.  I think  I do  ; and  I say  a man  who  makes  such 
a proposition  deserves 

Caleb  striking  7iotes,  A good  chord.  They  both  look  rounds 

Grant.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Furnival,  I merely  wish  you  not 
to  mention  it  yet.  I will — I will  make  it  known.  Let 
me  hear  the  particulars. 

Fur.  Well,  it’s  a very  remarkable  story,  (Grant  takes 
.up  his  cigar)  Ah,  that’s  better  ! Now  let  me  see,  for  I 
am  not  much  of  a hand  at  story-telling.  The  late 
Richard  de  Chaperon  was  a very  dissipated  man.  About 
the  time  of  his  marriage  he  became  acquainted  with  a 
girl  named  Jane  Dent,  and,  as  we  politely  call  it, 
accomplished  her  ruin.  He  was  sorely  punished.  Jane 
Dent  and  Mrs.  de  Chaperon  each  had  a blind  son ; the 
lady  mother  was  so  afflicted  she  was  too  ill  to  rear  her 
child  herself,  and  Jane  Dent  came  and  demanded  the 
place  of  nurse.  She  frightened  by  threats  of  exposure 
The  dissipated  father  into  compliance.  Some  time  after 
he  had  a fancy  to  visit  the  nursery,  and  there  to  his 
■astonishment  he  found  two  children  in  the  same  cot. 
He  asked  the  girl  which  was  his ; she  answered  both.  He 
told  her  to  take  her  child  and  go.  She  coolly  asked  him 
which  was  hers  ? He  did  not  know.  No  one  in  the 
house  knew.  The  girl  insisted  that  her  child  should 
either  share  or  have  his  chance  of  all,  and  told  the  father 
to  choose  his  heir.  He  chose  the  wrong,  and  after  a time 
the  boy  and  the  father  both  died,  and,  as  you  remember, 
the  estates  came  to  you.  Now  I at  the  time  knew  this 
story,  and  held  the  proofs,  but  I could  not  find  the  boy. 
At  last  the  name  Deecie,  a very  uncommon  one,  struck 
me  as  suggesting  De  C. — De  Chaperon. 

Caleb.  Oh  ! {they  look  round ; he  runs  his  lingers  up  the 
■keys) 

Fur.  And  with  the  help  of  Mr.  Wyatt,  who  only 
thought  I wished  to  find  the  young  man’s  origin,  I traced 
the  boy  in  Mr.  Caleb  Deecie. 


58 


TWO  ROSES. 


Caleb.  What ! 

{the  word  must  he  half  smothered.  They  look  rounds  and 
he  strikes  a few  chords  rapidly,  A pause) 

Fur.  You  bear  it  well. 

Grant.  This  is  a great  relief  to  my  mind,  {he  sees  the 
two  roses  on  the  tahle^  picks  them  up^  and  puts  thein  in  his 
button  hole)  When  will  your  proofs  be  complete? 

Fur.  Nothing  of  importance  is  wanting.  My  clerk  is. 
without,  waiting  for  his  instructions  to  go  to  Nottingham 
to-morrow. 

Grant.  He  must  not  wait,  let  him  go  to-night, 
c xpress ; I will  pay  the  expense ; come  in,  I will  give- 
you  a Jittle  cheque. 

{as  they  are  going  Lotty  e7iters,  l.  pulling  on  Ida) 

Lotty.  Papa,  dear,  don’t  go. 

Grant,  {turns)  My  child. 

Lotty.  IVe  brought  Ida  to  beg  your  pardon,  because 
you’re  a dear  sly  old  fox  of  a papa,  and  sent  for  Jack, 
and  never  let  us  know.  (Ida  looks  dowfi)  She’s  awfully 
sorry,  papa,  though  she  won’t  speak. 

Grant.  My  dear  child,  I have  business  with  Mr. 
Furnival. 

Lotty.  Mr.  Furnival  won’t  mind  me,  and  I’ll  tell  him 
where  to  get  a rose  off  my  tree,  only  I’m  afraid  he’ll 
charge  me  six  and  eightpence  for  taking  instructions. 

Fur.  My  dear  young  lady,  I take  the  hint,  and  will 
accept  the  rose  for  costs.  (Furnival  bows  and  gathers 
hvnself  a rose  and  exits,,  r.  i e.) 

Lotty.  Now,  Ida,  say  you  are  very  sorry. 

Grant.  My  dear  child,  this  is  very  painful,  very  pain- 
ful indeed.  Mr.  Wyatt  is  within  ; now  do  let  me  go  ! 

Lotty.  {clmgmg  to  hwi)  Not  till  she  has  said  she’s, 
sorry.  Now,  Ida? 

Ida.  Well,  papa,  I sucnvery  sorry  ; I thought  you  were 
deceiving  Lotty,  that  you  had  said  you  would  send  for 
Mr.  Wyatt,  and  you  did  not  mean  it  ; that 

Grant.  My  dear  child,  I cannot  bear  this,  it  is  very 
painful— Mr.  Furnival.  I — for  heaven’s  sake  let  me  go. 

{hurries  of,,  R.) 


TWO  ROSES.  59- 

Lotty.  O,  isn’t  papa  a good  man ; he’s  just  like  what 
the  poet  says,  you  know 

Ida.  Who— Caleb? 

Lotty.  No,  a 7eal  poet — one  thafs  dead,  I remember ; 
papa  does  good  by  stealth,  and  blushes  to  find  it  fame,”^ 
— that’s  it.  Oh,  mustn’t  papa  blush  at  the  good  he  does! 

Ida.  (thoughtfidly)  I don’t  know,  {quickly)  Ah,  well, 
it’s  best  to  believe  the  best.  Go  and  hide  as  I said  and 
I will  call  Jack. 

Lotty.  Oh,  don’t  it  sound  pleasant  to  be  able  to  say 
Jack  without  doing  wrong,  {goes  behind  fou7itam) 

Ida.  {advaficing  to  window)  Mr.  Wyatt, — he  will  see- 
you,  Lotty.  (Wyatt  enters  fro77i  window) 

Wyatt.  Did  any  one— eh  ? What,  Ida. 

Ida.  Yes,  it’s  me — I mean  L {holds  out  both  ha7ids) 

Wyatt.  A fgood  heart’s  better  than  good  grammar, 
Ida.  Well,  I little  thought  when  I came  here  I should 
hold  these  two  white  friends  again,  {he  kisses  her  left 
hand,^  then  her  rights  places  07ie  over  the  other  and  his 
on  the77i) 

Ida.  Yes,  that’ll  do.  ’Twas  very  kind  of  papa  to  send 
for  you,  wasn’t  it  ? 

Wyatt.  {do7ibt fully)  Yes. 

Ida.  Don’t  you  think  so  ? 

Wyatt.  O yes,  very,  very  kind. 

Ida.  Yes,  I thought  you’d  like  to  see  me. 

Wyatt.  And  only  you  ? 

He  leans  against  vase  facing  the  audie7ice.  Ida  faces  hun; 

Lot  I Y looks  up  resting  her  chin  on  edge  of  vase, 

Ida.  You  can’t  want  to  see  Lotty ; she  was  very  faith- 
less, wasn’t  she  ? 

Wyatt.  I didn’t  think  she’d  have  given  me  up  so 
easily. 

Ida.  No,  it’s  a pity  you  didn’t  marry  that  lady  who 
used  to  call  at  your  chambers,  and  leave  you  silver  forks. 
{she  takes  a letter  froTn  her  pocket  and  pro77ipts  he7self-—' 
aside) 

Wyatt.  Why,  how  on  earth 

Ida.  But — {quoting)  “ but  you  suffered  from  woman’s, 
falsehood  ” (Wyatt  tries  to  see  what  she  has) 


TWO  ROSES. 


‘6o 

Ida.  {turning  away)  “ And  you  will  never  love  again.” 

Wyatt.  Why,  you  white  witch,  how  did  you  come  by 
that? 

Ida.  Ah,  how  ! {brings  letter  forward) 

Wyatt.  Why,  of  course,  I see,  you  were  the  minister- 
ing angel.  What  a vain  fool  I was  to  write  that  letter. 

Ida.  Yes,  you  were,  but  there,  you  see  yoti’re  only  a 
man,  but  I wasn’t  the  ministering  angel  for  all  that. 

Wyatt.  Then  who  was  it  who  gave  you  the  letter  ? 

Lotty  here  dips  her  fingers  in  the  water  and  throws  the 
drop  at  hint. 

Wyatt,  {jumping  away  and  turning)  Lotty, — O,  of 
course,  what  a clod  I am — {moving  towards  her) 

Lotty.  {hides  her  face  in  her  hands)  Don’t  let  him 
touch  me,  Ida.  (Wyatt  puts  his  hands  behind  him  and 
watching  her ; Ida  steals  into  house)  Don’t  let  him  touch 
me.  {peeps)  Are  you  frightened  of  me,  that  you  stand 
out  there  ? 

Wyatt.  No,  pet. 

He  goes  and  brings  her  down  ; takes  both  hands ; is  going 
to  kiss  her — stops. 

Lotty.  Go  on,  you  may. 

Wyatt,  {kisses  her)  And  so  the  love  was  strong,  and 
the  work  did  not  come  undone. 

Lotty.  What  a long  time  it  is  since  I saw  you. 

Wyatt.  Nearly  a year. 

Lotty.  And  isn’t  a year  a long  time  when  you  want  to 
see  some  one  who  doesn’t  come  ! 

Wyatt.  If  you’re  idle,  a year’s  a very  long  time. 

Lotty.  O,  but  we  are  not  idle.  Ida  and  I are  always 
busy ; we’ve  made  the  curate  such  a lot  of  slippers. 

Wyatt.  Lucky  dog  to  stand  in  your  shoes. 

Lotty.  Papa  likes  us  to  be  busy;  we’ve  a Dorcas 
Society,  and  we  make  flannel  waistcoats  tor  the  poor 
children,  {with  something  between  glee  and  mystery)  We 
nearly  killed  one  baby. 

Wyatt.  Was  it  such  fun  ? 

Lotty.  Awful ! Ida  cut  a little  shirt  too  small,  and  we 
couldn’t  find  a child  to  wear  it.  At  last  we  got  Mrs. 
Phibb’s  baby  into  it — and  we  couldn’t  get  it  out  again. 


TWO  ROSES. 


6® 


Wyatt.  Happy  baby  ! 

Lotty.  We  had  to  cut  it  out,  as  if  we  were  opening  a 
parcel. 

Wyatt.  And  so  you  kill  babies — I mean  time — 
making  slippers  and  flannel  waistcoats. 

Lotty,  O,  we  do  other  things  besides  those.  I teacL 
in  the  schools. 

Wyatt,  {amused)  Mercy  on  us  ' 

Lotty  At  night,  ploughboys,  such  big  ones.  Seven- 
teen or  eighteen  years  old.  They’re  so  fond  of  me. 

Wyatt.  They  would  be  at  that  age. 

Lotty.  And  though  they  laugh,  they  do  just  what  I 
tell  them.  If  I say,  “Tom  Bullock,  who  conquered  the 
Britons?”  and  he  says,  “Nobody,”  and  I tell  him  to  go 
to  the  bottom  of  the  class,  he  goes  at  once.  You 
wouldn’t. 

Wyatt.  Not  for  saying  that.  I should  expect  a medal. 
Slippers,  waistcoats  and  ploughboys  ! Why  a Home 
Secretary  don’t  do  more. 

Lotty.  But  I do.  I’ve  all  my  Jacks  to  attend  to. 

Wyatt.  Oh  ^ I have  some  rivals 

Lotty.  Several — one’s  a mare. 

Wyatt.  Mayor  ? Old  person  t 

Lotty.  Four  years. 

Wyatt.  With  such  a mayor  the  town  shouF  be  a: 
doll’s  home. 

Lotty.  One  comes  to  me  for  bits  of  bread, 

Wyatt.  So  poor  as  that  ? 

Lotty.  Poor  i made  of  money.  Come  and  see  him,, 
{at  fountain)  There  he  is,  in  his  gilt  armour,  like  a 
Crusader  against  infidel  flies.  Isn’t  he  a beauty  ? and 
doesn’t  he  look  stupid  ? 

Wyatt.  Beauties  often  do.  Why,  there  are  the  old 
rose  trees  ! 

Lotty.  Yes  ; you  must  have  a rose. 

Wyatt.  How’s  this  ? One  bough’s  dead  i 

Lotty.  Yes  : I {crying)  broke  it  myself  trying  to  make 
it  grow  like  Ida’s. 

Wyatt.  Lotty,  you’ve  the  sin  of  all  Eve’s  daughters. 
Everything  you  have  must  be  like  someone  else’s.  And 


S2 


TWO  ROSES. 


so  many  an  honest  love,  that  might  have  blossomed 
brightly  because  it  grows  out  of  the  common  way,  gets 
broken,  and  dies  like  your  bough. 

Lotty.  How  nice  it  is  to  hear  you  lecture  again. 

Wyatt.  Give  me  the  bud,  {going  to  kiss  the  bud) 

Lotty.  Oh,  don’t  do  that. 

Wyatt.  Why  not  ? 

Lotty.  It’s  such  a pity  to  waste  ’em. 

(Wyatt  laughs^  kisses  Jier^  and  they  exeunt ^ r.u.e.) 

Enter  Caleb  and  I'DA.from  house. 

Caleb.  And  haven’t  you  played  at  chess  since,  Ida  ? 

Ida.  No,  I locked  up  my  men. 

Caleb.  Locked  up  your  men  ! What  a wife  you’d 
.make.  Will  you  get  them  out  ? 

Ida.  Are  you  going  to  stay  ? 

Caleb.  For  a day  or  two. 

Ida.  Has  papa  invited  you  ? 

Caleb.  No,  but  he  will. 

Ida.  Oh  dear  ! you  frighten  me  just  as  you  used  to  do. 

Caleb.  As  I used  ! Not  much  then. 

Ida.  But  you  do.  You  seem  to  have  some  strange 
property  that 

Caleb.  That’s  it.  I have  a wonderful  property  that 
will  make  your  papa  do  as  I please. 

Ida.  Shall  you  stay  long  with  us  ? 

Caleb.  Not  long.  I shall  ask  you  to  stay  with  me. 
If  I had  a place  like  this,  you  would  stay  a little  while 
with  me,  Ida  ? 

Ida.  Yes,  a long  time,  but  how  can  you  get  such  a 
place — not  by  fiddling  ? 

Caleb.  No  ; I should  pull  a very  long  bow  if  I said  I 
should  get  it  in  that  way. 

Ida.  Not  by  playing  on  the  organ? 

Caleb.  It  would  have  to  be  the  organ  of  benevolence. 
A good  many  fortunes  have  been  raised  that  way. 

Ida.  Don’t  tease  me,  Caleb — how  ? 

Caleb,  With  this,  {showing  tuning  key) 

Ida.  O,  nonsense  ! 


TWO  ROSES.  63 

Caleb.  It^s  a wonderful  little  instrument  Here’s 

your  father.  See,  what  an  effect  it  will  have  on  him. 

tipinio  window  ; Caleb  retires  up) 
Enter  Grant,  r.  i e. 

Grant.  Servants  are  all  down  at  the  tents.  Can’t 
anything,  and  my  mouth’s  dried  up.  I wonder  where 
that  fellow  put  the  corkscrew. 

Caleb  comes  to  window^  then  adv apices ; Ida  comes  to 
window, 

Caleb.  Knock  the  neck  off. 

Grant.  The  man  himself. 

Caleb.  Will  that  do?  {hands  tufiing  key) 

Grant.  Thank  you.  {takes  it)  I did  not  know  you 
were  here. 

Caleb.  No  ; my  entering  on  your  estate  does  astonish 
you,  no  doubt 

Grant.  I am  very  pleased  to  greet  you — we  have  been 
parted  too  long. 

Caleb.  Yes,  too  long  to  meet  with  perfect  confidence. 

Grant.  Mr.  Deecie,  I have  something  for  your  private 
^ear. 

Caleb.  Choose  your  ear  and  proceed. 

Grant.  I have  often,  in  days  gone  by,  thought  you 
had  a strong  attachment  for  my  daughter  Ida — that  you 
saw  her  merit 

Caleb.  Yes ; a blind  man  might  see  that 

Grant.  And  I also  thought,  Caleb — I say  Caleb. 

Caleb.  Yes,  as  there  is  a doubt  about  my  name,  Caleb 
is  best 

Grant,  {starts)  I also  thought  she  had  a more  than 
common  liking  for  you,  and  I confess  I noticed  it  with 
pleasure. 

Caleb.  Since  when? 

Grant.  Since 

Caleb.  I think  I can  tell  how  long  you  have  had 
this  favourable  opinion — about  half  an  hour.  But  I dare- 
say as  you  find  it  so  easy  to  forget  old  favours  when  it 
suits  you,  you  can  readily  forget  new  dislikes.  Would 
you  have  welcomed  me  an  hour  ago,  or  say  yesterday  ? 


64 


TWO  ROSES. 


Grant  I — I 

Caleb.  Pause  a moment,  you  are  agitated. 

Grant.  I — no,  you — mistake — if  you  could  see  me 

Caleb.  I can’t,  out  I can  hear ; your  tongue  is  dry 
with  excitement.  Try  your  seltzer  ; knock  the  neck  off 
- -you  won’t  hurt  it,  it’s  only  a tuning  key. 

Grant.  Tuning  key  ! {staggered) 

Caleb.  Yes,  what  I have  been  tuning  the  piano  with. 

Grant.  Then,  with  his  quick  ears  {turns  away)  he 
knows  all. 

Caleb.  By-the-bye,  I’ve  got  something  for  you  that 
I’ve  been  keeping  for  a long  time—you  may  find  it  useful 
now — a little  cheque  ! {hafids  him  the  cheque  of  Act  I.) 

Sounds  of  a band  advajicing.  Grant  pulls  hmself 
together  and  goes  to  back,  looking  off.  At  this  there 
is  a cheer ; he  raises  his  hat  The  band  cha7iges 
tune  to  “See  the  Conquering  Hero.”  They  eiiter 
at  back.  Four  rural  policeinen  playing  brass  instru- 
ments badly,  one  ve^-'.^  bass  horn  grimting  vilely. 

Jenkins,  preceded  by  a Footman  carrying  small 
table  mith  the  plate  on  it  covered  with  a cloth  • 
Mrs.  Jenkins,  and  others ; the  crowd  is  supposed 
to  be  off  at  l.  2 e. 

Ida.  {crossmg  to  Caleb)  Oh,  Caleb,  I wish  you  could 
see  the  police  band.  Papa  pays  for  it. 

Caleb.  I wish  I could,  I don’t  care  to  hear  it. 

Enter  Wyatt  and  Lotty,  l.  2 E. 

Jenk.  {takes  off  his  hat)  {cheers)  My  dear  friends, 
when  a shining  light  appears  amongst  us  we  ought  to 
acknowledge  its  presence.  {Cheers).  As  the  honorary 
secretary  of  the  Vassalwick  Institute,  founded  by 
Mr.  de  Chaperon,  I have  been  entrusted  with  the  presen- 
tation of  a piece  of  plate  to  him.  {uncovers  plate  ; cheers) 
I will  read  you  the  inscription — “ Presented  to  Digby  G. 
de  Chaperon,  Esq.,  M.P.,  of  Vassalwick  Grange,  Vassal- 
wick, by  his  numerous  friends  and  admirers,  as  a humble 
mark  of  the  high  esteem  in  which  he  is  held,  and  the 
deep  admiration  they  feel  for  his  many  great  and  • 


TWO  ROSES. 


65 


benevolent  acts.”  {Cheers)  Sir,  I beg  you  to  accept 
this  as  a token  of  the  high  esteem  in  which  you  are  held 
by  your  admiring  countrymen.  {Cheers) 

Grant.  “ Ladies  and  Gentlemen — {cheers) — it  is  with 
feelings  of  deep  emotion — {cheers)^2X  I accept  this— this 
little  gift,  {the  hand  off  l. — one  supposed  to  he  engaged 
for  the  presentation — strikes  tcp  sicddenly  ^ “We  won’t  go 
home  till  morning,”  to  the  dismay  (?/  Jenkins,  horror  of 
and  afjiusement  of  the  others,  Jenkins  motions 
off  for  hand  to  stop  ^ saying,,  “No,  no,  stop  the  band.” 
After  it  stops  Grant  proceeds)  I am  about  to  leave  you. 
{as  he  utters  these  words  a solitary  small  hoy  in  a smock 
frock,,  rushes  out,,  l.  and  throwing  up  his  cap,  shouts 
“ Hurray ! ” he  is  immediately  collated  hy  a Policeman 
and  ejected,  Omnes  saying,  “Turn  him  out!”)  I have 
discovered  the  lost  heir  to  these  estates — {cheers) — and 
have  sent  an  express  to  Nottingham  to  obtain  the  last 
proof  necessary,  and  to-morrow  I leave  a spot  closely 
associated  with  the  dearest  memories,  to  s^ive  possession 
to  the  rightful  owner.  It  is  no  small  satisfaction  to  me  to 
know  that  in  days  gone  by  he  was  often  sheltered  under 
my  roof,  and  that  my  hand  was  ever  open  to  assist  him. 
Your  new  lord  is  there,  {pointing  Caleb,  who  turns  a 
Good-bye.  {Cheers.  Mrs.  Jenkins  General 

sensation) 

Lotty.  O,  Jack,  what  does  it  mean  ? I don’t  under- 
stand, 

Wyatt.  I do  now,  pet.  What  shall  you  do  with  it  all, 
Caleb  ? (Ida  is  playing  with  the  water  as  it  flows) 

Caleb.  You  asked  me  to  give  you  a castle,  Ida.  Any 
way  there  are  the  broad  lands,  and  an  Englishman’s 
house — you  know  the  adage. 

Lotty.  Don’t  you  hear,  Ida  ? (Ida  still  plays  with  the 
water) 

Wyatt.  Come,  give  him  your  hand. 

Ida.  It’s  wet  (Caleb  hands  her  a handkerchief. 
Suddenly)  There  then ! 

- Grant.  Mr.  Jenkins,  that  union  has  been  the  dream 
of  my  life. 

Lotty.  You  won’t  part  us ! 


66 


TWO  ROSES. 


Caleb.  No,  you  shall  bloom  together  as  on  one  tree^ 
Wyatt,  (between  them) 

One,  like  the  rose  when  June  and  July  kiss 
One,  like  the  leaf-housed  bud  young  May  discloses^ 
Sweetly  unlike,  and  yet  alike  in  this — 

They  are — ‘‘  Two  Roses,” 

(Band  plays  valse) 

Mr.  & Mrs.  Jenkins. 
Grant. 

Wyatt.  Lotty. 


CURTAIN. 


Furnival. 

Ida. 

Caleb. 


MISCELLANEOUS  PLAYS. 

Many  very  scarce.  Price  6d.  each,  unless  otherwise  marked. 

(b)  denotes  burlesqiie,  (c)  comedy,  (c  d)  comic  drama,  (c  o)  comic  opera^ 
(d)  drama,  (ex)  extravaganza,  (f)  farce,  (f  p)  fairy  play,  (i)  interlude,, 
(m  d)  melodrama,  (o  b)  opera  bouffe,  (p)  play,  (r)  romance,  (t)  tragedy, 
(v)  vaudeville. 


Abelard  and  Heloise  (d),  3, 15.  Buckstone 
Abon  Hassan  (ex).  A.  O’Neal 
Abon  Hassan  (c  d),  2 
Adrian  and  Orilla  (p),  5.  W.  Diraond 
Agamemnon  & Cassandra  (b).  R.  Reece 
Aladdin  II  (o  b)  Is.  A.  Thompson 
Alhambra  (b).  A.  Smith 
Armourer’s  Daughter  (ex).  H.  T.  Arden 
Athenian  Captive  (t),  5,  is.  L.  N.  Talfourd 
Bailiff’s  Daughter  (f),  ^ 

Battle  of  Life  (d),  3,  U.  A.  Cmith 
Beast  and  Beauty  (b).  F.  C.  Burnand 
Beau  Nash  (c),  3.  D.  Jerrold 
Bird  of  Paradise  (f).  A.  Thompson 
Bon  Ton  (f),  2, 15.  D.  Garrick 
Borrowing  a Husband(c),l.  W.T.Moncrieft' 
Brigand  (b).  G.  h’Beckett 
Bringing  Home  the  Bride  (v),2.  Moncrieff 
Bubbles  of  the  Day  (c),  5, 1.?.  D.  Jerrold 
Burmese  War  (m  d),  3.'  J.  Hamherst 
Butterfly’s  Ball  (ex),  I5.  H.  R.  Addison 
Cadi  (c  o),  2.  A.  Thomas 
Cadi’s  Daughter  (opta),  1.  E.  Fitzball 
Camaralzaman  (f  p) , Ij.  G.  P.  R.  James 
Casco  Bay  (d),  2 

Castle  of  Paluzzie  (d),  2,  2s.  Raymond 
Cateran’s  Son  (d),  2.  C.  Z.  Barnett 
Catherine  of  Cleves  (d),  3, 1;?. 

Catherine  of  Russia  (d),l 
Caught  & Caged  (opta),  1.  J.  P.  Simpson 
Change  of  ’Air  (D.  P.  F.  Aldred 
Circumstantial  E'^idence  (c  d),  1.  Barnett 
Citizen  .(f),  2.  A.  Murphy 
Climbing  Boy  (d),  3,  2s.  R.  B.  Peake 
Conscious  Lovers  (c),  5.  Sir  R.  Sieele 
Courier  of  Lyons  (d),  3.  E.  Stirling 
Court  Fool  (d),  2.  W.  E.  Burton 
Court  of  Qn.  Anne  (d),  2.  W.  T.  Moncrieff 
Cruel  Kindness  (p),  5.  C.  Crowe 
Crusaders  (d),  3.  J,  Kingdom 
Daughter  (p),  5, 15.  J.  S.  Knowles 
Day  at  an  Inn  (i),  1 
De  Monfort  (t),  5.  J.  Baillle 
Devil’s  In  It  (c  o),  2.  M.  AV.  Balfe 
Devil’s  Ring  (ex),  G.  H.  Rodwell 
Discreet  Statues  (b),  3.  C.  Penrnddocke 
Don  Carlos  (t),  5,  2s.  6d.  F.  Von  Schiller 
Drama  at  Home  (ex),  2.  J.  R.  Planch^ 
Duchess  Eleanour  (t),  5, 15. 

Duplicity  (c),  5.  T.  Holcroft 
Dwarf  of  Naples  (c),  5, 15,  G.  Soama 
Eagles  of  Europe  (c),  1 
Elephant  of  Siam,  juvenile  drama 
Exposition  (sketcn),!  Shirley  Brooks 
Familiar  Friend  (f),  1.  Mark  Lemon 
Farmer’s  Wife  (c  0),  3.  C.  Dibdin 
Fiesco  (p).  Is.  6<i.,  5.  J.  R.  Planch^ 
Figure  of  Fun  (f),  1.  E.  Stirling 


First  Love  (c),  5.  R.  Cumberland 
Five  in  One  (c  d),  1.  H.  Walpole 
Follies  of  a Day  (c),  3.  T.  Holcroft 
Force  of  Nature  (c),  2.  T.  J.  Thackeray 
Fowl  Play  (b).  F.  C.  Burnand 
Francis  I.  (t),  5,  ds.  F.  A.  Kemble 
Fredolfo  (t),  5,  2s.  C.  R.  Maturin 
Garcia  (t),  5, 15.  6c?.  F.  G.  Tomlins 
Gentleman  in  Black  (bta),  1.  Lemon 
Giselle  (d),  2.  W.  Moncrieff 
Gladiator  of  Ravenna,  (t),5. 1/6.  Charlton 
Good  Looking  Fellow  (f),  1.  J.  Kenney 
He  Would  be  a Soldier  (c),  5.  F.  Pilon 
Heart  of  Gold  (d),  3,  I5.  D.  Jerrold 
Heart  of  London  (d),  3,  Is.  Moncrieff 
Heiress  (c>,  5, 1^.  Gen.  Burgoyne 
Hit  and  Miss  (b).  F.  C.  Burnand 
Hoffman  (t),  5,  I5.  H.  Chettle 
Horace  and  Lydia  (c),  1.  F.  P. 

House  of  Ladies  (bta),  1.  Mark  Lemon 
How  to  take  up  a Bill  (v),  1.  Moncrieff 
Husbands,  Wives,  and  Lovers  (fb  1. 

Ida  de  Galis  (t),  5,  2^.  6c?.  Murgau 
Irish  Absentee  (f),  2.  J.  W.  Hy(i,5 
Irish  Engagement  (f).  W.  Waits 
Irisli  Heiress  (c),  5, 2^.  6c?.  D.  Boucicault 
Isaure  (m  d),  3.  B.  Webster 
Isolda  (d),  5, 19.  Author  of  Runnymede 
Jack  Shepherd  (d),  3,  D.  6c?.  J.  T.  Haines 
Jane  (d),  2, 15.  J.  P.  Hart 
Jenny  Jones  (opta),  1,  D.  6c?.  F.  Cooper 
Jew  of  Malta  (t),  5,  Is.  C.  Marlow 
John  of  Procida,  (t),  5, 3s.  J.  S.  Knowles 
Josephine  (d),  2.  C.  E.  Wallis 
King  and  Carpenter  (p),  1,  Is.  Lawrence 
King  Incog,  (f),  2,  Is.  G.  E.  h’Beckett 
King’s  Fool  (p),  3,  2s.  €d.  Mullingen 
King’s  Seal  (c),  2,  Is. 

King  Zany’s  Daughter  (b),  1.  Bosbaccj^ 
Kiss  and  the  Rose  (v),  1.  Moncrieff 
Lalla  Rookh  (ex),  3,  Is.  V.  Amcotts 
Last  Nail  (d),  2.  G.  D.  Pitt 
Law  of  Jarva  (p),  3,  2s.  G.  Col  man  ' 
Lion’s  Lady  (bta),  2 
Little  Lost  Child  (b),  Is.  H.  Hume 
Little  Madcap  (i),  1.  C.  S.  C.  Taylor 
Little  Snowwhite  (f  p).  C.  Millward 
Lochinvar  (d),  2,  Is.  W.  T.  Moncrieff 
Lone  Hut  (d),  2,  Is.  G.  Raymond 
Love  in  Wrinkles  (c  0),  2.  M.  R.  Lacy 
Love  Tests  (opta),  1.  V.  Amcotts 
Love’s  Frailties  (d),  2.  J.  J.  Staftorc" 
Love’s  Livery  (f),l  ‘J.  Brougham 

Love’s  Trial  (p),  5,  2s. 

Lucretia  (t),  5,  Is.  M.  Ponsard 
Lurline  (m  d).  1.  D.  Pitt 
Macbeth  Modernised  (b) 

Maid  of  Mariendorpt  ^),  5,  2s.  Kuowlei 


Maid  of  Switzerland  (d),  1,  Wilson 
Maiden  Annt  (c),  5, 15-  R.  B.  Kiiowlef 
Mammon  and  Gamm^/Zi  1 
Manager’s  Daughter  0),  .s.  E.  Lai>^'»sict 
Manuel  (t),  5, 15.  Author  of  Bertram 
Margaret’s  Ghost  (r),  2.  E.  Fitzball 
Mark  Lawrence  (d),  2.  W.  B.  Lighterness 
Marriage  of  Sir  Gawaine  (e) 

Martha  (b),  1.  Capt.  Arbuthnot 
Mary  Melvyn  (m  d),  3,  U.  E.  Fitzball 
Master  Clarke  (p),  5,  Is.  6d.  T J.  Serle 
Match  for  a Monarch  (c),5, 15.  S.  Hickson 
Match-Breaking  (c),  3, 15.  6d.  J.  Kenney 
Merchant  of  London  (p),  5, 2s.  T.  J.  Serle 
Merry  Zingara,  parody.  W.  S.  Gilbert 
Methinks  I see  my  Father  (c  d),  2, 
Midas  (bta),  2,  I5.  K.  0.  Hara 
Military  Billy  Taylor  (ex).  F.  C.  Burnand 
Mirandola  (t),  5,  2s.  B.  Cornwall 
Modus  Operand!  (p),  3,  U.  J.  Walker 
Jlonsieiir  Mallet  (d)  3, 1^. 

.Mothers  and  Daughters  (c>,  d,2s.,  R.  Bell 
Mount  St.  Bernard  (d),  3.  W.  T.  Moncrielf 
Mountain  Dhu  (ex),  Is.  A.  Halliday 
Mrs.  Harris’s  Baby  (i),  Is.  Buss 
Murder  of  the  Glen  (d),  2,  Is.  J.  P.  Han 
My  Friend  the  Captain  (f),  1,1s.  Coyne 
My  Friend  the  Governor  (v),ls.  Blanche 
Mysterious  Mother  (t),  4,  Is.  H.  Walpole 
Naomie  (d),  2.  D.  W.  Osbaldiston 
Nina  Sforza  (t),  5,  2s.  R.  Z.  S.  Troughton 
Nicholas  Flam  (f),  2.  J.  B.  Buckstone 
No.  49,  farce,  1.  F.  Lawrence 
Nobody’s  Chdld  (b),  1.  H.  T.  Arden 
None  but  the  Brave,  &c.  (ex),  4 
North  Pole  (m  d),  2.  J,  T.  Haines 
Not  a Word  (bta) 

Noxia  (p)  6,  Is.  H.  J.  Smith 
Number  ( ne.  &c.  (f),l 
Old  Carlisle  Bridge  (b),  1.  W.  Scribble 
Old  Love  and  the  New  (c),  6.  R.  Sullivan 
Old  Maids  (c),  5,  2s.  J.  S.  Knowles 
Oliver  Cromwell  (t),  6.  Is. 

Olympic  Games  (ex).  F.  C.  Burnand 

One  Fault  (d),  2,  Is.  W.  T.  Moncrieff 

Orphan  (t),  6,  Is.  T.  Otway 

Our  New  (Joverness  (c),  2,  Is.  S.  Brooks 

Out  of  Sight  (opta),  1.  C.  Stephenson 

Panel  (c),  3.  J.  P.  Kemble 

Parson’s  Nose  (cta)l, 

Pay  for  Peeping  (f),  2,  Is.  B.  Webster 
Peasant  of  Lucerne  (d),  3,  3s.  G.  Soane 
Peer  and  Peasant  (c),  5,  Is.  W.  T.  Moncrieff 
Perfect  Menagerie  (f),  1.  J,  W.  Lawrence 
Post  Captain  (d),  3.  W.  T.  Townsend 
Pretender  (c),  2.  J.  J.  Stafford 
Pretty  Druidess  (ex).  W.  S.  Gilbert 
Princess  in  Tower  (ex),  1 
Prison  and  Palace  (c  d),  2,  Is.  Sirnpsoo 
Prison  of  Toulon  (d),  3.  Rich**vas 
Promissory  Note  (opta),  Is. 

Queen  and  her  Ladies  (p),3.  1.  incognita 
Queen  Cremehilda  (t),  6,  Is.  S.  Hickson 
Queen’s  Visit  (bta),  1,  is.  F.  Cooper 
Rabbi  of  York  (t),  6,  Is. 

Railway  Bubbles  (f)  1,1s.  J.  S.  Coyne 
Rake  and  his  Pupf*'  'c),  3, 2s.  Bucksto 
Ran  Dan  Club  (f),  ‘T.  Worrell 

Ravenna  (t),  6 


I Regent  rc),  2,  Is.  J.R.Planchd 
Reputation,  (p),  6.  is.  J.  li.  Planch^ 
Respectable  Man  (c),  3,  Is.  6a. 

Revolt  of  the  Workhouse  (b),  Is.  a’Beckett 
Richard  III.,  travestie,  2 
Richard  III.  (b).  F.  C.  Burnand 
Richard  Turpin  (f),  1.  M.  Barnett 
Rightfoll  Heir  (b),  1.  H.  T.  Arden 
Ring(d),  2.  Mrs.  M.  Turnbull 
Rise  of  the  Rotheschildes  (d),2,  Is. 
Robinson  Crusoe  (b).  Is. 

Roman  Father  (t),  6.  W.  Whitehead 
Rose  of  Arragon  (p),  5,  2s.  J.S.  Knowlei 
Rouge  et  Noir  (f),  2,  Is.  J.  Ebsworth 
Run  to  Earth  (f),  1.  U.  Hall 
Runnymede  (t),  6,  Is. 

Sardinapalus  (b).  H.  b.  Granville 
School  for  Wives  (c),  5.  C.  B.  Bradshaw 
I Seamstress  (d),  2,  Is.  M.  Lemon 
Siege  of  Seringapatam  (b).  Burnand 
Siege  of  Troy  (b),  1,  Is.  R.  B.  Brough 
Self  Sacrifice  (m  d),  2,  Is.  G.  Soane 
Sesostris  (t)  5,  Is.  C.  H.  Williams 
Shakespere  and  Co.  (c),  6.  Bradshaw 
Sinbad  the  Sailor  (md),  2,  Is.  H.  Younge 
Son  of  the  Sun  (b).  Is.  G.  A.  a’Beckett 
Spanish  Curate  (c),  6,  Is. 

Struggle  for  Gold  (d),  5.  E.  Stirling 
Taken  in  and  done  for  (f).  C.  Selby 
Tale  of  a Pig  (f),  1,  Is.  J.  Bruton 
Tarnation  Strange  (f),  2,  Is.  Moncrieff 
That  Odious  Captain  Cutter  (eta),  1. 
Three  Calendars  (b),  3.  C.  Penruddock 
Three  Clerks  (1),  2,  Is.  W.  Oxberry 
Timoleon  (t),  5,  Is.  R.  W.  Jamieson 
Timour,  Cream  of  all  Tartars  (b) 

Tobit’s  Dog  (c),  1.  W.  T.  Moncrieff 
Trail  of  Sin  (d),  3.  H.  Leslie 
Trevanion  (p),  3,  Is.  W.  Marston 
True  Forgiveness  (d),  3.  Dr.  E.  How’ard 
Turf  (c  d),  2,  Is.  M.  Lemon 
Two  (Greens  (f).  Is.  L.  Rede 
Two  Heads  better  than  One  (c),  2. 

Two  Pages  Frederick  the  Great  (c),  2,  Is. 
Ulf  the  Minstrel  (ex),  I.  R.  Reece 
Uncle  Oliver  (f),  2,  Is.  J.  T.  Haines 
Very  Little  Faust  (b),  Is.  F.  C.  Burnan-J 
Vespers  of  Palermo  (t),  6,  Is. 

Victim  of  St.  Vincent  (m  d)  4.  S<erle 
Victorine  (d),  4.  H,  M.  Milner 
Videna  (t),  5,  Is,  J.  A.  Heraud 
I Villikens  and  his  Dinah  (f),  1.  J.  Bruton 
Vortigern  (p),6.  Is.  W.  11.  Ireland 
Vow  of  Silence  (m  d),  2.  C.  Z.  Barnett 
Waslha  (p),  3,1s.  W.  H.  Oxberry 
Watch  and  Ward  (f).  A.  Wigan 
What’s  your  Game  (eta),  1,1s.  J.  Bruton 
Which  is  the  King  (c  d),  1.  W.  Watts 
Who’s  a Traveller  (f),  1,  Is.  F.  Cooper 
' Wild  Boy  of  Bohemia  (d),  2 

Wild  Goose  Chase  (f),  2,  Is.  iT.  Jameson 
Winterbottoms  (f),  1.  W.  T.  Moncrieff 
Wizard  Priest  (d),  3.  J.  Walker 
Woman’s  Wit  (p),  5,  2s.  J.  S.  Knowlea 
Wrangling  Managers, prelude 
Wreck  of  the  London,  ballard.  Heraud 
Young  Hussar,  (opta),  2 
^cOffoaster  (m  dj,  2,  Is  W.  T.  Moncrieff 


